Just You Wait And See
by XxBeccixX
Summary: AU. Steve/Tony, Football and Science. Steve had only ever wanted to prove himself, and football seemed to be the way; it practically made people take notice of you. Tony had only ever wanted to prove his father wrong, and promised he'd do anything to achieve it; he would make people take notice of him. "That night two boys shared a single thought, 'Just you wait and see.'"
1. Prologue

**Authors Note:**Usually I'm not a fan of writing AUs, don't get me wrong, they're absolutely fabulous things, and strangely the majority of my pairings seem to have been introduced to me that way, with the exception of an obvious few but I've never really got along with them. I like to challenge myself, see whether or not I can make something seem realistic. However, when I saw a picture of my absolute favourite pairing at the moment depicting Steve and Tony as college kids I couldn't help myself. It's been a while since any plot bunnies have hit me, at least not to the same all-consuming degree as this, and I'm hoping to whatever gods there are that it kicks me in the behind and gets my creative juices going since they're practically non-existent after this first year at college. I'm taking some liberties ect, but that's the fun part of AUs. I'm going to try and keep to the verse as much as possible, but Stark will not be going to MIT at 15, I can't deal with a 19 year old Steve perving on Tony at that age. xD There might be quite a few errors in this fiction – being English I have to admit I don't know much about the American education systems or American Football for that matter. Consequently my google search bar and Wikipedia is being completely swamped, but I'm still going to get things wrong! Sorry in advance and let me know if I **do** do anything wrong. Ta. :)

For all those, if you're still hovering about, waiting for an update of _Alone Again_ I'm going to have to put it on the back burner for now, I'd been slowly chipping away at the next chapter whenever I got any free time during semesters but my computer went on the fritz and wiped everything – I'm just incredibly lucky all of my work had been handed in but everything's gone. Half written fan fictions I'd been musing over and my nearly finished chapter. I'm (I hope understandably) pissed off about it, and I don't have the patience to try and rewrite it at the moment. Sorry, but I hope you enjoy this.

Enough with my long ass A.N and on with the fiction – enjoy guys! xxx

**Warnings:** Some pretty offensive language, severe bullying, homophobia ect.

* * *

**Prologue**

_"Little faggot!"_

Steve's head whipped back to crack against the southern wall of the gym as a well aimed elbow connected to the underside of his jaw and pain immediately bloomed from both points. This had become somewhat of a habit. It could be argued that he probably had it coming when he'd squared up to Thompson for shouting lewd comments across the basketball courts at Peggy Carter. He didn't regret it. The boy had no business saying those things to a girl – especially not in front of both her friends and his.

Saying that to Thompson, however, had bought him to his current predicament, and without missing a beat Steve raised his fists and took a shot of his own, ignoring the dampness he could feel at the back of his head sliding down his neck. Distantly he wondered how he was going to explain the blood to his mother, and, he thought with a grimace, his father who'd expressed on more than one occasion that he profusely disagreed with the scraps his son always seemed to get into.

The much bigger boy easily knocked his punch aside and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him back against the wall, pinning him without much difficulty. Steve could hear Thompson's friends yelling encouragement from the crowd assembled to watch the display and he pushed as hard as he could at the boy's chest, trying, and failing, to dislodge his fists from his shirt.

"Stop squirming you little bitch," Thompson growled out, slamming him back into place against the hard brick, the rough texture digging into his skin. "Wouldn't put it past you to be enjoying this either. Perhaps if you behave I'll let you suck my – Argh, _shit_!"

From over the boy's shoulder Steve watched as Bucky stormed towards them, hands fisted at his side, closely followed by Peggy. He opened his mouth to tell the brunette to stop, that this was his fight, but the look in his friend's eyes had him snapping it shut quickly as the older boy drew his arm back and swung his fist towards to side of Thompson's head. Stunted, the bully was knocked off his feet and would have dragged Steve down with him too had Bucky not grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

"Get the fuck out of my sight."

From that one hissed sentence Steve knew he was in trouble, the older boy never cussed, not unless it was really serious. Red pooling in his cheeks the blonde snuck a glance at Peggy who just sighed in exasperation and sent him a pointed look.

She turned her back on him and starting ushering away their quietly muttering audience, "Shows over people, go home, you've got to have better things to do."

And then they were alone.

Staring at his feet Steve waited for Bucky to say something, but his usual reprimand didn't happen. In fact, the brunette didn't say a thing, he just stood there, face like thunder glowering at him. Clearing his throat after another moment of uncomfortable silence Steve looked up and opened his mouth.

"Bucky, I – "

"Don't even start, Steve," he cut across him and ducked down to collect his friend's bag from the ground, shoving it into his hands. "Let's just go home, your mom's going to go mental when she sees you."

Steve couldn't do anything but agree, and swinging his bag onto his shoulder he quietly fell into step behind the older boy. As the adrenaline slowly left his body he realised that his friend was doubly right – his mom was going to have a fit when she saw the damage. Running the tip of his tongue across his busted lip Steve sighed and raised a hand to gently prod at the dried blood matting his hair at the back of his head. That was going to _really_ smart in the morning, he absently mused.

He could see Bucky watching him, thin lipped, from the corner of his eye and not for the first time Steve found himself ashamed of what he'd done. Not for defending Peggy, of course, he was still adamant that he'd done the right thing there. But he was ashamed for not backing down or walking away when Thompson started mouthing off at him, he should have left before punches started to be thrown. He really should have known better, especially when he knew that he'd get into these scraps and it would be Bucky who came to finish them.

It was always Bucky who pulled his ass out of the fire and he couldn't help but wonder why the boy had put up with him so long.

He just couldn't…help himself.

All it took was for someone to call him a coward…call him a faggot and he'd be ready to defend himself. His dad had said that a man who walked away from a battle was less cowardly than those who started them. But he never started fights…he just didn't back down from one. As for Bucky…Well, he'd told him time and time again that they could say whatever they liked, it didn't make it true and so long as he and Steve knew they were just harshly said lies, what did it matter?

He'd never been able to tell his friend that it mattered that people like Thompson called him a 'little fag' because he was starting to think it _was_ true. Bucky was always talking about girls, which one's were attractive, which one's weren't and which ones were complete 'dames'. Steve had never really been able to get involved in these conversations much; frankly he hadn't **wanted** to.

After all, how did you tell your best friend that actually the high pitched giggles of girls and the developed curves of a woman didn't do anything for him? It was the gruffness of a man's voice and the sharp planes of their bodies that made shivers run up his spine.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled finally and saw Bucky's shoulders tense before he glowered at him.

"You do this all the time Steve. It's gotta stop – I get that you did it to make Thompson leave Peggy alone, I get that there's always a goddamn **reason **behind why you do it. But why can't you just see that we hate watching you get hurt? Me, your parents, hell even Peggy's started asking me to get you to stop. I'm not always going to be there, you know that. I graduate next year and I'm not going to be around to watch out for you when I'm at high school," the brunette groused, his gaze and voice softening as he continued. "I just don't want to have to worry about what state I'm going to find you in at the end of the day."

Steve understood. Honestly he did. But it was different for Bucky; he was big, stronger, the good looking one. Everything he wasn't. He didn't care that that the boy was a year older than him, that puberty had obviously done wonders for him – Steve was skinny, more bone than skin, and less muscle than he wanted to be. He couldn't even do what he wanted and join the junior's football team because of his size, even though his illustrious friend had joined the year before. Stuffing his hands into his pocket he pouted, wrapping his fingers around the rejection letter and stared at the floor.

The movement didn't go unnoticed and before he could even hope to fight off his friend, Bucky had pulled his wrist and swiped the paper from his now exposed hand. Steve watched in silence as Bucky's eyes surveyed the writing before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"So this is what set it off? I know it's your dream, Steve, really I do…But don't you think – " Bucky paused, cherry picking his words and Steve scowled at him, already knowing that he was going to say. "You've been applying for two years now, maybe you're strength doesn't lie in sport. You're not an idiot, I bet if you – "

"I can do it!" Steve snapped, shocking the brunette into silence with the force of his exclamation. "You wait and see Bucky, when I get to high school things'll be different. I'll get onto the team; I'll show everyone they were wrong. You'll see."

There was a long stretch of silence before Bucky chuckled and reached over to ruffle his hair with a wide grin. "Right. But you've gotta get to high school first, so don't pick any more fights, alright?"

Satisfied with the nod he received the brunette carried on walking, smirking when Steve had to jog to catch up, "Your mom's still gonna kill you though."

Steve groaned quietly and felt the back of his head with another grimace. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Bucky was right. He would be lucky if he made it through the night, let alone until high school once his mother saw the blood on his collar.

_Damn it._

* * *

"Tony, would you come here for a moment?"

With a long suffering sigh, Tony looked up from the circuit board he'd been reconstructing for the last half an hour and turned mildly apathetic eyes to his mother. He knew what this was about; he could see the slight worry etched into her usually kind face that only ever appeared when she thought her husband and son were about to have another confrontation. He slowly pushed himself up to his feet, dusting imaginary dust from his trousers and tossed the screwdriver to the floor with the spare parts.

It wasn't like he'd been getting anywhere anyway. He hadn't been able to concentrate since he'd handed his mom the envelope when he'd got in from school.

It felt like an eternity before he reached the woman in the doorway, hands dug in his pockets and trying to ignore the mild panic he could feel starting to race through his body. Glancing down the hallway he could see the door leading down to his father's lab was ajar, and as if summoned by the mere thought of him, Howard Stark had pushed the door open and blocked the doorway, bracing himself against the frame.

Tony was pinned by the man's unwavering gaze, and even if he had wanted to follow through with the irrational desire to flee he would never have been able to. He could tell his father had hit a snag in whatever it was he was currently developing down there – not that he would know, of course, he wasn't allowed near any of his inventions. Howard's face was set into a slight scowl, dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking out at odd angles where he'd run his fingers through it in frustration, the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows and the waistcoat he perpetually wore, even in the house, was undone, hanging open from his frame.

However it wasn't his father's general unkempt appearance that bothered Tony; no, it was the score card clutched in his right hand. **His** score card.

A few very colourful profanities ran across his mind as he stared back.

After a moment of so of the unwavering silent war father and son seemed to waging on each other, Howard sighed irritably and gestured for the boy to follow him into the dining room. For a moment Tony considered ignoring the request and started plotting his escape where he could hole himself in his room for a few hours, maybe even days, until Howard had calmed down, but when Maria gently placed her hand on his shoulder, he made no attempt to push away from her guidance.

Awkwardly Tony sat himself at the foot of the expansive table and folded his hands in front of him, continuing to eye his father with a mixture of distrust and distain. So what if he hated him? The feeling, so much as he could gather, was rather mutual. He watched silently as Howard paced back and forth a moment before turning to stare at his son, making his way towards him with evenly placed strides.

"You're probably wondering why I asked your mother to get you."

_'Not really'_, was his immediate response and Tony bit the side of his mouth to keep his snide remarks to himself, if only for his mother's sake. Howard slid his score card across the hard, dark mahogany towards him and Tony merely glanced down at it before turning his gaze to the opposite wall. Any other parent would be over the moon, he thought quietly, if he had other parents he would have been patted on the back, congratulated, told well done, been given a huge ice cream sundae or maybe even been taken out to dinner. But he wasn't any other child, and his father was not like other dads.

Instead he was the genius child of their time and he had the genius father, founded of Stark Enterpise who's only form of congratulations was leaving him the hell alone. So long as he didn't do anything wrong he would be left in peace, but now…

Howard sighed heavily again and jabbed his finger down on the paper, leaning over to force his son to look at him. "Would you mind telling me what exactly this is?"

"I believe they call it a score card. They're used to inform a child's parents of his achievements and shortcomings at school."

The sarcastic remark was out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it and Tony glared back at his father, slowly looking down to the letter leering at him beneath Howard's finger. One single A stared back at him amidst a sea of A+'s. Strange how one little letter could mock him so much.

"Don't get smart with me, Anthony," Howard snapped and pulled himself up to his full height, folding his arms. "Perhaps you'd like to start explaining why **my** son only got an A in _physics_?"

Tony didn't answer immediately. If he was being honest it was entirely his own fault. His teacher had it in for him ever since he'd mouthed off one lesson that the way he'd been teaching the class was not only long winded and difficult to understand but was also very **wrong**. He knew it wasn't any of the homework they'd been assigned over the year, the look of shock and perhaps nausea as Mr Hobbs had put his work on the stack of paper had been enough to tell him he'd gone 'beyond the call of duty', and he knew for a fact he'd aced that exam. Honestly they could have _tried_ to make it hard for him.

But how could you explain that to a parent? Especially one who was still eying him like he was a bottom feeder in an aquarium.

After another moment or so Howard tapped his foot impatiently and raised an eyebrow at his son, "I'm waiting."

Seeing no other option Tony reluctantly looked up at his father and forced himself to answer. "My teacher doesn't like me, I answered every single question correctly, he must've blamed it on my working out not being clear, but I don't need to work it out on paper, he just hates me because I'm smarter than he is…"

"If you knew he would want the working out why didn't you just write it down? It would have taken thirty seconds," Howard demanded, lips pursed and tone clipped, digging his fingers into the fabric of his sleeves.

"Because there was no point! He knows damn well that I could answer any question on that paper quicker than he could. Why should I play dumb just so – "

"I don't give a damn if your teacher is a drooling imbecile; if he tells you to do something, you do it. You got that Anthony? I don't care if he tells you that you need to write down the working out or if he tells you you're doing something wrong even when you know you're not. You keep your mouth shut and you do what he says or smile and nod and continue to do it the way you were doing it anyway. Consider this a life lesson, people are going to make you do things you don't want to do all the time and you can't mouth off at them every single time they do."

Tony sat in silence, biting his tongue to remain silent and glared down at the table; half hoping it would set on fire. He could hear the logic in his father's words, of course, but that didn't mean he had to like it. His eyes snapped up tersely and the brunette jumped to his fee, thin lipped.

"Now, you're going to go and apologise to your teacher for your behaviour – I don't care how much you've got to suck up to him, I don't want anything like this happening again. You understand, Anthony?"

Hands balled up and shaking at his sides Tony nodded once, staring back at his father with eyes ablaze, before turning on his heel and stomping out of the room when he was dismissed.

He didn't need to do any of that. His father had got it wrong. He would **never** depend on anyone to get what he needed. People everywhere would know **his** name. People would be awed by him. He was **wrong**.

* * *

That night two boys from two very different backgrounds stared up at the ceilings of their rooms in the darkness.

That night two boys made a silent pledge to themselves.

That night two boys shared a single thought, '_Just you wait and see.'_


	2. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: ** I know in the comics Steve's dad dies when he's young and his mum dies when he's about…16 I think, but for this fic I wanted Steve to have a more stable upbringing than Tony. As such, his parents are going to stay alive for the considerable future. :) And I'm going warp the timeline a little to suit my own strange needs. As a quick warning this is going to be a slow burning story, from what I've planned out Steve and Tony won't meet until chapter three. Though knowing me I might throw out some smut on the side, because I can't stay focused. :/

Thank you all so, so much for your reviews and your story alerts, it really kicked my arse into writing this chapter, I've got the next three planned, just need to figure out what I'm doing next. :)

It's now five in the morning, I've finished the next chapter, but I haven't beta'd it. I'll do it later when I've woken up. xD Damn I'd forgotten what fan fiction writing did to my body clock.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter. xxx

* * *

**Chapter One**

Bucky was there the day Steve graduated from Brooklyn Academy.

The blonde could see him as he stepped up onto the platform to receive his diploma; his friend was sitting next to his parents, all three of them wearing near identical grins. Shaking his principle's hand he looked out over the mass of people and offered a small smile, one that became a little shy as his team mates whooped and called out, stamping their feet against the ground, cheering on their Quarterback. Ducking his head he walked from the platform and took his seat with his friends, who elbowed and jostled him, laughing loudly.

Behind them Bucky watched with a slightly more reserved smile as they knocked his cap from his head and ruffled his hair, causing the girls around them to start chirping quietly to their girlfriends, casting short, star struck eyes in Steve's direction.

It was hard to believe he was the same boy from a few years previous.

Puberty, Bucky mused, had been very good to his friend. When he'd graduated to high school, the brunette hadn't been able to see Steve often and when he did it was brief; between football practises, homework, his job down at the old somewhat rundown corner shop on his street and an interesting new pastime he'd been introduced to called _dating_, the time they'd spent together had been sparse but sacred.

He'd watched Steve grow from afar. He'd seen him shoot up to be impossibly tall for his age. And for the first time since his friend had confided in him his dream of one day perhaps playing football professionally Bucky actually thought he might be a chance. He'd convinced his coach to let the gangly blonde sit in during practise when Steve had the time and had given him hints on how to put on the muscle he needed.

He'd watched him bulk out, seen him develop a broad chest and even broader shoulders.

More importantly, Bucky had seen his friend remain the same gentle kid he'd always been; being old fashioned and helping old women get their shopping home, getting cats out of trees for neighbours, helping his neighbours kids make things and blushing at the newfound attention from the opposite sex. That never failed to make him chuckle; Steve awkwardly smiling when girls paid him compliments or flirted with him.

Then he'd graduated and joined him high school.

Steve had grown again; Bucky hadn't even thought it was possible. He could only ruffle the guy's hair if he was sitting down and even he had to admit his friend had turned into a true stud. Girls went wild for him; he guessed it was the usual blonde hair and blue eyes thing, or perhaps the fact that none of the guys on the team could boast having as good a body as Steve had. Even Bucky had to admit he'd looked at his friend in the locker room more than once in a mix of awe, respect, pride and jealousy. He had it all, wide shoulders, and abdomen sculptured to perfection, narrow hips and, he knew from experiencing the blonde running headlong into him, incredibly powerful legs.

For the first time in his life, Bucky had become invisible whenever his friend was around. And he didn't resent it one bit.

Well…maybe a _little_.

And yet in all that time, Bucky hadn't seen Steve with a single woman. His mother and Peggy didn't count, but even Carter had started taking more than a platonic interest in the blonde. At first he'd pinned it on Steve wanting to be the best, wanting to impress the coach and get him the quarterback position when Mathews had left. But slowly he'd noticed the awkward smiles he'd give his flock of simpering girls and hilarious facial expressions weren't simply down to not being used to the attention. At least not after the first six months at least.

So Bucky had watched him, peeved that Steve wasn't telling him something.

He'd seen the appreciative looks the blonde would cast over the backs of their team mates when he thought no one was looking, noticed the way he'd hold back a few minutes so he could shower alone, he'd noticed Steve had never really ever gotten drunk around any of them. It all made sense, but he knew better than to haul the blonde up over his secrecy, even if he did feel a little hurt.

Steve had told him eventually of course; the year after Bucky had graduated. He never had been good at keeping secrets, especially from his friend.

* * *

_It was absolutely pouring down with rain, and he was the only one stupid enough to be out in it._

Well,_ he thought sullenly as a car rushed past him, sending a small tidal wave over his shoes, soaking him through to bone, _the only one out who's not in a damn car.

_One day he'd be able to afford one, but on the measly pay he got from work Bucky knew he'd never have a chance. But that was all going to change now, he'd been on his way to tell Steve the good news when the heavens had opened, and now he was shivering and jogging down the street to the Roger's house._

_Steve's mom had opened the door when he'd hammered at the old wood, paint peeling off, as he huddled as close to the building as he could, enjoying what little shelter he could. She'd tutted at him, fussed at little and retrieved a warm towel from the airing cupboard so he dry off as he called up the stairs for her son._

"_Stupid ass, what were doing out in the rain?"_

_Bucky looked up to see Steve towering above him at the top of the stairs and gave him a sheepish grin, "Got caught short, didn't listen when Ma told me I'd need an umbrella, or at least a jacket. Give a guy a change of clothes would you _**Captain**_?"_

_Steve returned his friend's grin with one of his own and gestured for him to come up; quietly apologising to Sarah for any water he trudged through the house Bucky jogged up the stairs, two at time. Roughly drying his hair, leaving it in complete fluffy disarray, he stepped into his friend's room, barely catching the large shirt and jeans Steve tossed at his face with a wide grin._

_He stripped quickly, grateful to be out of his own sopping wet clothes and hung them up on the peg on the back of Steve's door, rubbing his arms to warm his blood. Damn it he really hated the rain. The walls of his childhood friend's room were covered ceiling to floor with posters, ticket stubs and sketches, but completely pristine, clean to the point that Bucky had often accused his friend of being OCD. Steve had always laughed and shrugged, but never argued his case._

_Said blonde had reassumed his position on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, sketch book resting against them as he continued what Bucky assumed he'd been doing when he'd been summoned. Quietly taking the office chair at Steve's desk, he rolled it over to his bed and lowered himself into it, waiting for him to say something._

_After a long moment Steve finally looked up, frowning slightly, "What's wrong?"_

_He'd always found it strange that his friend could always read him so easily. "Nothing's wrong. I have some good news actually. I finally figured out what I'm going to do."_

"_It's about time, _James_," Steve chuckled and shook his head, tossing the half finished sketch onto the bed and stretched out, leaning back against the wall. The use of his friend's name had him squirming in his seat and simply made his smile grow. "You've been out of school for what? Five months now, you should have had it figured out ages ago."_

"_Well goody for you Mr _'I-wanna-go-to-MIT'_ but not all of us have your brains," the brunette huffed and crossed his arms in faux irritation. He couldn't keep up the act long though, and he desperately tried not to crack into a grin when Steve threw a pillow at his head, a throw he narrowly missed. "Alright, alright. Well…I enlisted today. Got my ASVAB in week and my medical at some point but other than that I'm in, I'm fit enough, the pay's good and I'll be serving my country. Not a bad choice huh?"_

_Steve didn't say anything for a long moment, instead he sat and stared down at his sheets with a small frown as he mulled over everything Bucky had said. It made sense of course, and the army would be lucky to have him. The brunette would make a brilliant soldier; he just couldn't help but worry. Steve didn't have much in the world, superficial friends who had only noticed him because of his status on the football team didn't mean much when Bucky had been there when he was at his lowest._

"_I'm…proud of you. You're serious about this right? Because this isn't something you can go back on, once you're in you're – "_

"_Ah, quit worrying for once, Steve. I'm sure, what else am I going to do huh? Can't stay at that poky little store forever, and this way I can see the world, make a difference, you know," Bucky interrupted and smiled fondly. Getting to his feet he jumped onto the bed with his friend, ignoring the old structures groan of protest at two fully grown men using it and ruffled that blonde hair. "Relax."_

_They remained like that for some time, enjoying each other's company; at some point Bucky had turned on the TV, flicking through channels without saying a word. It was Steve who broke their silence, taking the remote from Bucky's hand gently and muting the television, staring down at the sheets again._

"_What's up?"_

_The blonde didn't move immediately but after mulling over whatever was going through his head Steve took a deep breath and looked up at his friend. "Can I tell you something? I've been meaning to for a while, but it never seemed like the right time…And I – "_

"_Steve you're rambling, come back to us mate," Bucky teased gently and smirked when a vivid blush rose on his cheeks and across his nose. Steve was too easy to rile sometimes._

"_Sorry…Look, this is kind of hard to say, so I guess I'm just going to get it over with. Just like ripping off a band aid; if you do it quickly it'll…" Steve trailed off at the pointed look Bucky gave him and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the small crack above his door he'd yet to cover with an appropriate drawing. "IthinkI'mgay."_

_Bucky had to stop himself from laughing – this certainly was __**not**__ the time to be laughing at his friend, but the way Steve had just garbled his confession out was hilarious. "You are just too __**precious**__, Steve," he chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair again._

"_It's not __**funny**__, Bucky!" Steve said quickly, clearly mortified by his friend's reaction._

_The brunette immediately raised his hands in submission and schooled his face into as serious an expression as he could. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's just how you said it…I couldn't help myself."_

_Huffing quietly Steve folded his arms over his chest and scowled, "You're such an ass."_

"_Look, would it help if I said I actually already knew? I have for a while actually," Bucky said gently, and rolled his eyes at the horrified look the blonde sent his way. "Easy, buddy, you weren't obvious. I was just curious and suspicious, you know? I never saw you with any girls, and it wasn't like they weren't __**flocking**__ around you, so I just…watched a little. You seemed to like Michael Davidson's ass if I remember rightly."_

_If Bucky wasn't used to Steve blushing as bright as a tomato he would have be worried about how red the blonde went at his comment and he couldn't help but laugh again. Tossing his head back he grasped his sides, rolling about on the bed so he could thoroughly enjoy his friend's embarrassment. That was until the boy took his pillow, Bucky had never understood why the guy liked to sleep with two, and seemed to make it his mission to smother him with it._

"_I did __**not**__!"_

_The pair wrestled for a while, each trying to get leverage over the other for a good ten minutes, and neither said a word. It wasn't until Steve was sitting triumphantly on the brunette's back with his hands pinned behind his back that Bucky turned to glare at the boy over his shoulder, heaving out hard pants. "By the way, you told your parents yet?"_

_Steve's horrified look answered for him, and taking advantage of his distraction, Bucky knocked him off his back and they dissolved into another wrestling match that this time ended with Steve giggling and gasping for air as Bucky dug his fingers into his sides. It perhaps wasn't fair to use the blonde's ticklish body against him, but it had diverted his thoughts away from his parents, which was what mattered._

_After all, what were friends for?_

* * *

Steve awkwardly brushed off his team mates, their families and his small following of girls and walked briskly towards his parents and Bucky, beaming at them. He still felt like an incredible idiot in the dark green robe, but he'd unbuttoned it so it simply hung over his suit, his cap hanging uselessly in his hand as he embraced his mother, and shook his father's hand, both of their grips just a little stronger than usual.

"You did a good job, son. Proud of you."

"Thank you, sir."

As formal as the short conversation was Steve knew that once they were out of sight he'd be pulled into a strong one armed hug and taken out for a meal. Just because his old man wasn't fond of public displays of affection didn't mean he wasn't delighted about what he'd achieved.

Smiling warmly the blonde turned and wrapped his arms around his friend, patting him on the back and raising an eyebrow at Bucky's attire. The full military wear did him credit and Steve had to agree with the whispering girls behind them, even if Bucky was practically his brother, he could admit the man looked hot. "I didn't you were coming," he managed around his face splitting grin, "You said you were leaving last week."

Bucky chuckled and shrugged, digging his hands into his pockets with a coy smirk, "Couldn't miss your graduation could I? You've been to every single one of mine. I just called in a few favours so I could stay a week more."

They stood for a moment looking at the building they'd spent the last few years in, laughing about or bitching about what went on there. Even when he'd graduated Bucky had spent a lot of time there, whether it was to cheer on his old team or meet Steve to hang out – their memories were there. Good or bad. Steve was glad to say there were decidedly more good things than bad, unlike when he'd graduated junior high.

"Strange isn't it," Steve mumbled finally.

All the brunette could do was nod.

Aware his parents were still hovering on the fringes of the celebrations waiting for him Steve turned to his friend one last time. "I'm not going to see you before I go to MIT, am I?"

"Probably not. But don't worry, I'll come and visit whenever I get the time. Who knows, maybe I'll find a beautiful college chick when I see you and I'll have someone other than my parents and you to visit. Damn that's depressing," Bucky chuckled; rubbing his arm as the blonde gently punched him. "You take care of yourself, alright Captain. No dangerous stunts when you join the Engineer's got it. And make sure you get me a beaver's shirt so I can wear it when I get the time to go to one of your games."

"Got it," Steve confirmed quietly, looking down at his feet for a moment. He glanced up at the brunette's equally as quiet 'Com'ere', and they embraced again, patting each other hard on the backs once more. "You damn well make sure **you** stay safe. If you don't come back in one piece James Barnes, I'll beat your ass so hard."

With a slight crooked smirk Bucky nodded, "Got it. Now get out of here, you're parents want to take you out. Just do one thing for me when you get to MIT, Steve. Have a drink and think of me."

Nodding Steve took Bucky's hand, giving it a firm shake before turning his back on his childhood friend and strode across the green to his waiting parents.

* * *

Steve looked around his room with a sad smile.

It looked incredibly bare, even more so than usual; his bed was stripped, and he'd made a conscious effort to pack away anything that he wouldn't need, even when he came back during the holidays. The sketches had been take down from the walls, a few handpicked and packed to go with him, the others put in storage. His desk was almost entirely empty, except for the large, old desktop computer he'd inherited from his father when they'd upgraded to a new, quicker computer. It was slow, and chugged along at a snail's pace; at times Steve was sure he could hear it wheeze, but it had been his and it had been just fine for school work.

His parents had scraped together enough money to get him a laptop for college, it wasn't state of the art by any stretch of the imagination, but it was good enough for him. At least he wouldn't get cramp in his hand trying to keep up taking notes during lectures. The small collection of Jets memorabilia had also been packed away, though the signed football Bucky had bought him for his eighteenth birthday had somehow managed to find itself in his 'going away' pile.

It just didn't seem fair to have so much out, collecting dust – he couldn't expect his mom to come in and clean all the time.

Some form of motherly telepathy must have informed Sarah he was thinking about her, because her gentle knock pulled him out of his musings. Turning to look at the woman watching him with a small smile he nodded to her, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously; it was so strange knowing he was leaving. Not for good, of course, but he wouldn't wake up to the smell of bacon wafting up the stairs, or the sound of his dad leaving for the day, too polite to disturb his son even when they all knew he'd be awake.

"How're you feeling?"

Wasn't he meant to be the one asking that? Wasn't he meant to be comforting his mom, making sure she knew he'd be back and that she hadn't lost her little boy? Smiling he nodded again and lowered himself onto his bed, "I'm alright. How about you? How're you?"

"Wonderful."

Now that was not something he had expected. Even knowing what his mother was like he wasn't expecting her to be smiling wide at him as if he'd just run for presidency and won. "Wonderful huh?" he said slowly and looked down at his feet, "Glad to finally get me out of the house?"

Sarah stepped into the room, placing her parting gift on his desk as she sat down next to him, hitting him gently on the head, "Don't be stupid, Steve. I'm just so, **so** very _proud_ of you." Wrapping her arms around him she kissed him on the forehead, "You've done everything you've always said you would. It might not have been an easy journey, but you did it. You got there, and I always knew you could. Your father and I, we have always had faith in you. But seeing you here, standing in this room, it shows me how much you've grown. I couldn't be happier."

Steve didn't know quite what to say to that. What _could_ he say? So instead he just squeezed his mom tight against him and buried his head into her shoulder, "Thanks mom…"

"Now I've well and truly embarrassed you," she teased as she pulled away, Sarah got to her feet and retrieved the neatly folded bundle of fabric and plopped it on his lap. "Your father and I wanted you to have it."

As the blonde unfolded what appeared to be a large jumper, Steve had to force himself not to grimace; instead he settled for a tight grin and looked up at his mother. The knitted monstrosity had the stars and stripes of the American flag, and while he was sure once it had been incredibly fashionable, now he wasn't so sure. But who knows, he could get really, _really_ desperate and wear it if he forgot to do his laundry. Maybe he could use it as a warning that he would have to do his laundry. "Geeze…Thanks mom, I dunno what to say."

"I know, it's not…well, very cool. But I thought it might be nice to have a bit of home there with you. You father used to wear it all the time when we were younger," Sarah explained and smiled at the mildly horrified look on his face. "No one's saying you have to wear it, Steve. It's just there if you want it."

Leaning over she pressed her lips to his forehead and slowly walked to the door, "We're ready to go when you are."

Steve nodded and got to his feet, taking one last long look at his childhood room before he bid it a silent goodbye.

He would never tell a soul that that night, when he was alone in his dorm room trying to get to sleep he had pulled that jumper out of his wardrobe and tugged it on.

He would never tell a soul that he'd fallen asleep almost the moment his head had hit the pillow once he had, comforted by the smell of home.


	3. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** Holy crap on a cracker this was a really hard chapter to write. Well, some of it was easy, but just so you know I really, _really_ struggled with Tony. I was warring with the balance between smarmy and outright rude. I don't think I did it, but hey, what do I know. You'll know the bit I'm talking about when you get to it.

This chapter was bought to you by Disney. Because lord knows I wouldn't get through it without – damn Tony for being a stubborn little git and not helping a girl out. :/

On more exciting news: Tony and Steve will be meeting for the very first time. ;) I've been looking forward to this. But updates will probably slow down now, I'm travelling home on Saturday, but I'll be busy packing (A.K.A what I should have been doing instead of writing…) until then.

Enjoy this chapter!

xx

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Tony sat, utterly bored out of his mind, as he listened to the President of MIT prattling on about some inane, unimportant bullshit that didn't really need to be said; why should he care that the humanities had had record high achievements, it wasn't as if the world needed another degree bedecked weatherman. Why should he care that the arts program had had its highest success in years? If by success he meant that the majority of them had **passed**, then yes, goody for them – because quite frankly when he'd hooked up with that girl last semester he was surprised she'd even got _in_ to the college. More importantly than all, why should he care that almost all of the athletics teams had come top of the boards in almost every discipline?

As if on cue, a huge cry of delight broke out from the testosterone and possibly steroid-high group of jocks sat behind him and to his left.

Yes, Tony hated jocks most of all.

Pompous, pathetic, preening idiots the lot of them. The only thing that exceeded their arrogance was, perhaps, the size of their biceps. Don't get him wrong, he _knows_ he's arrogant, but at least he's accomplished more than beating down his opponents with brute strength to run a _ball_ across a field. Honestly, a caveman could do it.

But above all else, for Tony jocks were **bullies**. They'd made his life a living hell from the moment he'd stepped onto campus at the tender age of fifteen, now, three years later they were no different. He'd had his fair share of payback – rigging the sprinkler systems, hacking their computers and deleting their work, nothing that could be traced back to him, of course, but he'd never been a particularly forgiving person. His father was perfect evidence to that case and he wasn't going to change.

He liked the way he was, thank you very much.

Tony could have perhaps made an exception the first few times that group of imbeciles had taunted him, jeering at his age, asking if he missed his 'mommy', but only for the first few months – it must have been hard for their Neanderthal-like brains to grasp the fact that he was a _genius_. No matter how strange it was for them to see a kid walking around campus, tablet in hand muttering to himself they should have known not to talk down to their betters.

In his defence, however, he _had_ been talking to JARVIS, working the kinks out of the newly developed A.I's system, not himself – but he hadn't seemed to care enough to set them straight anyway.

Tony was, after all, a prodigy – a true virtuoso of the engineering and computing world, and the likelihood of him ever **needing** those idiots in the future was not high, perhaps in the low 0.05 percentage range…maybe lower. Not that it would have made much difference if he _had_ needed them of course.

It just made his actions and distain even more justifiable.

And then it had reached boiling point the year after he joined MIT, a couple of months after his sixteenth birthday.

* * *

"_Hey Pipsqueak!"_

_Tony barely glanced up from the tablet in his hand at the three mammoth men walking towards him. He knew Richardson, head of the football team and the biggest ass he'd even had the misfortune of meeting, would never pass up an opportunity to heckle him, partially because he never really did anything to dissuade him but mostly because it had him feel big to rattle the super genius' cage._

_And maybe a little bit because he'd nearly got him kicked off the football team when he'd hacked into his email and sent the college's fifty-something leading patron, Mrs Foster, a few incriminating emails. It had all been sorted, of course, and he'd never been found out, but he'd made sure Richardson at least had suspicions about who had caused all the trouble for him._

"_Shall I call the principle, sir? Or Miss Potts?" JARVIS' smooth voice asked over the wireless Bluetooth he had practically implanted in his ear, he really didn't want his P.A getting involved. She had a horrible tendency to mother him._

"_Nah, I got this."_

"_But sir, I really must insist – "_

"_Mute," the brunette hissed under his breath and wondered what exactly had been going through his mind when he'd given the A.I. a personality._

Oh yes_, he thought sourly, _I wanted some company_._

_Looking up to receive his less than pleasant guests, Tony raised an eyebrow at Richardson, placing the tablet down on his lap and folding his arms defensively across his chest. "Good afternoon. What colourful, thought provoking insults have you got lined up today? The usual? Or are you going to mix it up a little? I'm sure I could give you some ideas if you wanted to widen your vocabulary."_

"_You think you're so goddamn smart, don't you, Stark?"_

"_Guilty," the younger teenager sighed with a shrug of his shoulders, offering the three gorillas a toothy grin. "Though I would point out that I don't __**think**__ I'm smart, I __**know**__ I'm smart, there's a subtle difference, Richardson. Maybe if you think about it really carefully you'll figure it out."_

_Distantly Tony noticed the way the taller brunette leant forward, glaring at him harder than ever and a small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like JARVIS was telling him to back down before he got himself hurt. But his self-preservation had always been a little skewed and Tony simply ignored it. He wasn't going to let himself be bullied by an idiot three years his senior who had the mental capacity of a guppy fish._

_In fact, he was starting to think the guppy might have a bit of an edge over the football jock._

"_You'd better watch yourself, Stark, one day you're going to mouth yourself into a lot of trouble," Richardson ground out, fists shaking at his sides as he glowered at the little brat. "Not surprised you haven't got any friends; you haven't got a choice but to build them."_

_Tony pretended he'd imagined the twinge of pain the man's words sparked in his chest and he simply offered Richardson a smug little smile to mask his discomfort. "How __**is**__ Mrs Foster these days? Surely if you keep trying she won't be able to resist your charms."_

_His tablet slid off his knees to the grass with a loud 'thunk' when Richardson's fist collided with his cheek, and Tony was bodily knocked backwards off of the bench at the force of the punch. Grimacing slightly he clasped the side of his face; it was going to bruise like fuck, and he was pretty sure he'd split his lip. Brushing his tongue across his lower lip cautiously, he winced; yup, there was the metallic tang of blood. He was bleeding._

"_You snot-nosed little __**shit**__, I __**knew**__ it was you! No one fucking believed me, but I knew you were the only little bitch stupid enough to do it. I'm gonna – "_

"_Mr Richardson, would please step away from Mr Stark."_

_Both Tony and the massive menace above him looked round to see a fuming red head glaring at them, arms folded and tapping her foot irritably._

Aw, **shit**, Pepper's found me.

_Which of course begged the question of how she had even known he was here; let alone that he had gotten himself into trouble again. Glowering down at the tablet under the bench Tony raised his hand to cover the Bluetooth in his ear, "Traitor."_

"_My apologies, sir, but you were having your ass metaphorically handed to you," JARVIS answered coolly across their connection and Tony snorted, and pouted when the action made his nose sting. Which then made his lip throb sorely. _

_Goddamn it, his entire face hurt!_

_Tony watched in silence as one of Richardson's friends seemed to wise up enough to grab the brunette's arm and start tugging. Not that Tony could blame them; Pepper was scary as hell when she was angry._

"_Don't think this is over, Stark – we'll have another little chat when your babysitter isn't around," the football player growled and spun about sharply, pushing his friends out of his way as he stormed back towards the dorms. _

_Which left Tony with a very upset Pepper Potts._

Not good.

_Getting to his feet, the genius brushed his slacks off and wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his shirt, staring at the red head awkwardly for a moment. Crouching down, wincing when his face throbbed again, Tony swiped the thankfully unharmed tablet from the ground and turned to face her with a smug smile._

"_Hi, Pepper."_

_He saw the corner of her mouth twitch, and he knew in an instant he was safe. For now at least, who knew with her – she could just be planning to haul him over the coals for it later, but with an exasperated sigh she gestured for him to follow her, "Come on, Tony – let's go get you cleaned up."_

* * *

Things, if possible, had only deteriorated from there between the two, and by extension the entirety of the football team.

They didn't stop bickering, of course – but Richardson had enough sense not to come near him again and Tony, after he'd been thoroughly balled out by Pepper, had enough sense not to go near his emails. Well, at least not to _send_ anything, as far as he was concerned, if the footballer hadn't learnt to make his account hack-proof then he deserved to have his private emails read.

"And now, I hand you over to our valedictorian Mr Anthony Stark."

Ah, and there was his cue. Brushing down his robes Tony got to his feet and slowly walked up the steps with an easy stride. Grinning cockily at the President he shook his hand amicably – he could see Pepper sitting with his mother and father, all of whom looked slightly nauseated that he was going to be closing the ceremony, let alone being permitted to speak _publically_.

Well, he wasn't going to let them down.

Stopping behind the podium the brunette grinned out across his classmates, tapping the microphone once and causing a mass shudder as it reverbed across the hall. Clearing his throat Tony placed his cap over the paper he'd asked to be place there, he was a showman, after all, and he was going to give them just that, a big show.

"Well, here we are. Who would have thought that we'd have got here? I know I certainly didn't expect it – not with the boozing, the partying and whatnot. I'm a little shocked that we didn't lose a few of you along the way." Tony paused, eying a few people in particular and a few of the ex-students chuckled quietly and without skipping a beat he continued, hands in his pockets, "They say your graduation day is the climactic achievement of your life, the point where all of your hard work has led you, a once in a lifetime opportunity – I can't say whether or not I agree with that. I'll let you know in another four years when I've just done it all again."

A small murmur ran across the auditorium, Tony had made it no secret that he would be returning to MIT the following year to gain his doctorate and take on another degree on the side. He let his eyes flicker to Pepper who shook her head a fraction in warning before breaking into a smug grin and ploughed on – it wasn't like they'd take his placement away from him, they needed him.

"I don't know many of you very well, it wasn't easy to get to know all of you in our first year when I had an eleven o'clock curfew – " that got a much louder laugh and Tony nodded with a chuckle, " – I gather many of you thought I'd got lost when you first saw me walking around the campus, some weird little know-it-all kid. But we got round it in the end. I guess this is probably where I should thank the parents for being here. You must be really proud of everything your kids have achieved over the years, no matter what's it been in; and though it might seem like they take it for granted, I'm sure I can speak for my classmates when I say they genuinely appreciate your continued support."

Watching his father shift in his seat Tony moved on and glanced over his shoulder, "And where would we be without our beloved faculty? They're some of the best in the country, and sure they might be a little old fashioned and not with it on some of the newer developments in their fields but they certainly develop our thanks – a lot of us wouldn't be here without them."

As awkward as many of the adults were starting to feel, Tony and his fellow graduates seemed to be settling into the swing of things, His words were starting to get more laughs and he freely allowed himself to join in as he joked about individual teachers and told amusing anecdotes about the time they'd spent together. But all too soon it was time to wrap up his speech and he sobered up quickly, gesturing for them all to quieten down.

"I doubt I'll meet any of you again, and I wish you the best of luck in whatever it is you decide to do. God knows some of you are going to really need it." The smiles and laughter stopped almost immediately and he watched them turn to each other with horrified and affronted looks, not that he cared either way. "Try not to get too lost in the big wide world."

With a wide shit-eating grin, Tony strode across the stage and hopped down the stairs, tossing his robes and cap to the side as he disappeared down the aisle, diploma in hand.

God he needed a drink.

And he needed it _before_ his father found him.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you were playing at?"

Tony looked up with a bored sigh as he swirled the amber liquid around his glass before he tossed it back, glaring across the table at Howard. He was about to refill when he noticed the bottle of whiskey he'd been steadily making his way through for the last hour had been removed and was now safely out of his reach in Pepper's hand.

Leaning back in his seat the eighteen year old turned his irritated gaze on the red head and held his hand out, "Give it back, Pepper."

"Thank you Virginia, would you give me a moment with my son?"

Tony watched, mild panic rising in his chest as Pepper anxiously nodded once and started towards the door. He, irrationally, wanted to ask her to stay, the twenty-something couldn't protect him from whatever wrath Howard decided to dish out, but she could at least give him that look that had him biting down on his tongue.

She would be able to stop him from saying anything stupid, from getting himself into more trouble than he was already in. But other than an apologetic but stern look Pepper slowly shut the door behind her, carrying away his liquid luck.

Without saying a word Tony continued to sulk in his seat, slouched back with his left ankle balanced on his right knee, staring glumly at his empty tumbler. He could see his father still looming on the other side of the room, watching him silently, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall.

For a moment he couldn't help but wish he only ever saw the Howard Stark everyone else got to see – the cool, trendy, intelligent and suave genius inventor. He rarely got to see his father like that; instead he got the tired, bored, ratty man who kicked off social graces as soon as he got home, would let his hair fall into disarray, roll his sleeves up and sink himself elbow deep into whatever he wanted to.

Which currently, Tony noted, seemed to be him.

"Well?"

"What do you want me to say?" the teenager grumbled and glowered at the table, refusing to look up at the man he'd spent his entire life respecting, fearing and hating. "That I was bored? That I thought it was a good joke? That I hated that place the moment I got there and that was one big 'fuck you' to the **idiots** I've had to put up with for the last three years?"

Howard raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath, "That's what this is about? If you hated it so much why not say something instead of acting like a child? You're eighteen years old for Christ sake, start behaving like it!"

"Why the hell do you give a damn?" Tony practically shouted and turned on his father, running a hand through his hair as the older brunette drew himself up to his full height. "You never give a shit about anything else I do, why is it whenever I do something _wrong _you're always right there, ready to dish out your hypocritical bullshit?"

Howard was red in the face and looked about ready to burst, and Tony couldn't help but wonder which of them would lose it first. "Because it reflects badly on me and on the company! Do you have any idea what your little stunt will have done for our publicity? Christ Anthony I can see the fucking headlines now! _Stark Prodigy Throws Honour in MIT's Faces!_ Everything you do damages the company and my image."

"The company. _The company!_ All I ever hear about is your **company**. Why can't it be about something other than your fucking business?"

Both Starks fell silent and glared at each other. They could both hear the accusation in his words: _why can't it be about me for once._

Tony watched as Howard slowly lowered his gaze but didn't say a word and sneering he shook his head, "You know what, forget it. I'm out of here."

"And where are you going to go?" Howard snapped, following Tony to the door with his eyes, unable to say anything that might diffuse the situation.

"I'll stay with Jeff until next year starts and then you won't have to hear from me for another four years."

Neither of the men said a word for a moment, even when Tony gave his father more than enough time to try and fix things. But as good as the man was with mechanics he seemed to be beyond hopeless with something that didn't run on procedure, physics or science.

Snorting crudely through his nose Tony swung the door open and slammed it behind him, leaving Howard to sink into the very chair he'd just vacated feel more at a loss than he had in years.


	4. Chapter 3

**Authors Note:** I took a break. Sorry guys, but I moved back home over the weekend, had concerts to perform and just couldn't bring myself to actually sit down at the computer and type anything. So instead I've been mulling everything over. With any luck this chapter won't be so bad.

Would also like to one, apologise for the mistakes riddling my last few updates – I'm one of those very irritating people who likes to do a rough proof-read and just update quickly. I don't have a beta, and I know myself well enough to not over-read my work or I might lose my nerve with the plot/get sick of what I'm writing. Thank you for making me aware of the errors, ect, I'll add them onto my little list of things to do and deal with them when I think I can do it safely for the integrity of the fic, otherwise I might change things and no one would be the wiser until I get in a few more chapters and reference something that I added after.

Thank you for letting me know where our cultures differ, I did know that you couldn't drink legally in America until you are 21, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that maybe the students drink in their dorms and in halls anyway. For the sake of this fiction that's what's going to happen, my poor google bar currently hates me – especially when I'm acting like a right idjit and asking really simple stuff. If anyone wants to know (and you probably don't) some of my more recent questions were: _"Do American colleges have a 'freshers week'?"_ We do in England and it's **the** opportunity to meet everyone in your year, get drunk and have sex (something I steered well clear of. xD), and my personal favourite, simply because it isn't even a question: _"MIT and fine arts course"_. Turns out, from what I've read pouring through the MIT website, I don't think there is one – for the sake of this fiction, there is now!

As I said, I'll be taking an awful lot of liberties with this fiction; don't take anything at face value, because if something seems garishly out of place, it's likely I've just changed reality to suit it. After all, this is a fanfiction and to sound completely anal and self-absorbed – I do this for my pleasure. That I have the fortune to have people such as yourselves enjoying what I write, is simply a huge honour and a massive cherry on top of my sundae. :)

Also, sorry for the confusion about which chapter the boys would be meeting, I meant _my_ Chapter Three, not the chapter three on the scroll down bar; I (perhaps oddly) don't count my prologues and epilogues as chapters. :/ My bad.

Anyway, enough with my jibberjabber and onto the story. Hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for your reviews, continued support and guidance. It's very much appreciated! Xxx

* * *

**Chapter Three**

College was nothing like what Steve had been expecting. Of course he wasn't sure _what_ exactly he had been expecting. All he was certain about; was that **this** (whatever his first two weeks had been) was not it.

The halls of residence were cleaner than he had predicted; but much, _much_ louder than he had imagined in his wildest dreams. He'd thought maybe his fellow freshmen might be a little…excited to be here, but he had seen more than a few seniors at the parties he'd been dragged to by his new teammates, and the combined exuberance of freshmen being here and the upper years _'having fresh meat'_ was bordering on extreme.

Even from where he was (the last room on the top floor) he could still _feel_ the heavy bass of whatever music they had decided to play that night, hear the screams and shouts of intoxication and ecstasy as his fellows ran amok in the corridors. On more than one occasion he'd woken to the sound of their carousing and was then stuck listening to the celebrations for the next three or four hours until they were either interrupted by a very irritable member of the faculty or they passed out.

Steve had come to realise that it was usually the latter; if the fact that he had to pick his way through and over his unconscious or sleeping classmates on his way to his early morning jogs was any indication.

He could understand the athletes-turned-academics behaving like this – after all, his own experiences with 'jocks' had been watching them imbibe extreme amounts of alcohol and trying to hit on anything that had two legs and breasts. However, he was quite sure he'd seen a few mathematicians, science majors and engineering students joining in with the mayhem – they seemed to be worse in some cases.

Despite his status as 'football quarterback' which seemed to have the stigma of 'play hard, drink hard, fuck hard' attached to it Steve found himself skirting around the fringes of these parties; a spectator, not a participator. He'd only gone because Clint, Thor and Bruce had dragged him there, usually by force or with threats that people would think he was weird.

And by 'people' he knew they meant his teammates; it also didn't help that he'd already gotten off on the wrong foot when he'd met his afore mentioned team.

He had initially been met with irritation, some admiration and more jealousy than he knew what to do with when Steve had introduced himself to the other football players, the coach standing to his right proclaiming him, quite firmly, the quarterback. From what he'd gathered, their star player Richardson had graduated the year before, leaving them woefully lacking. He was apparently their best hope at topping the board instead of sitting just below the Harvard team – something that had happened consecutively for the past five years.

No pressure then.

While some seemed remarkably happy with the decision, especially when the coach had listed his credentials for the rest of the team to chew on, others had stared at him like he was the anti-Christ. It had later been explained to him that many of those guys had expressed their interest in the position at the beginning of last year when it became clear that Richardson was definitely going to be leaving.

Not only had they missed out, but they had _all_ missed out because of a freshman.

That had made him pale slightly and Thor had simply grinned and slapped him hard on the back.

Not to mention when he'd been asked what he was majoring in and he'd answered with 'fine arts' he'd been given a few sceptical and suspicious glares.

Overall, it hadn't been a good experience and it left Steve with no doubts about where he stood with his team.

"Just give them no reason to doubt your right to be on the team," Thor boomed cheerfully as he looked up from the book he'd been reading for the past half hour; though Steve was quite sure he **wasn't** in fact reading, because the huge blonde had only turned the pages three times. Not for the first time Steve wondered how he'd made it to his second year on the literature course; but the way the man spoke made it very clear that he **did** have a flair for language.

Not to mention Steve was quite sure Thor's girlfriend had been helping him. Even though Jane Foster was studying astrophysics she seemed to have a firm grasp on whatever it was Thor did, and an even firmer grasp on what his course entailed.

With a groan Steve let his head drop to the picnic table they had taken over for most of the afternoon, "The first practice game isn't for another three weeks. How am I going to do that?"

"Don't be stupid Steve," Clint cut in easily, sliding into a seat and putting his feet up onto the table, folding his arms. "Everyone knows that the game is only part of your role – you've got to prove that you can hold your own, inspire the rest of the team when we're all exhausted from keeping your ass away from the other team and that you're not a complete wimp. You're the first artist we've ever had on the team; and I do mean **ever**. Not wanting to buy into the cliché but you guys usually aren't so…big."

He agreed with them. He hadn't been big at all; he'd just had lucky genetics and had worked damn hard. He'd taken the ridicule when he'd first slipped into the gym at junior high to try his hand at the weights; he'd listened to Bucky fret over his first set of dumbbells. If he hadn't been so set on proving himself and hadn't had such a passion for the game he would probably have let himself remain the same.

Thin, slightly frail and feminine.

"And how am I gonna do that?"

Thor seemed to have completely given up what he'd been trying to do, and had tossed his book aside in order to give the conversation his full attention. He grinned broadly, "You should come out with us. Tonight we're going to the last party of the orientation."

"And you're going to join in this time, no more standing at the edge looking like a lost puppy," Clint added firmly, eying Steve with a stern expression that had him biting down on his initial rebuff of the idea. He did _not_ look like a lost puppy; it wasn't his fault this was an entirely new experience for him. There was a slight pause before the older man uncross his arms and waved just over the blonde's head, presumably at someone he knew. "Hey! Banner, get your ass over here!"

Steve couldn't help but grin slightly. He really liked Bruce; the guy was seriously smart, a third year physicist that Steve can't even begin to decipher, the kind of intelligence that makes him feel like a complete idiot every time he opens his mouth, he has that weird kind of humour that borders on sarcasm. He's a nice guy, even if he does have some severe anger management issues when he gets on the pitch – he'd heard some of the horror stories Clint and Thor had about the physicist back when he'd first joined the team. They weren't pretty, and it had led to Bruce's nickname, _The Hulk_.

He hadn't believed it at first, after all, Bruce had always been pretty chilled out around him since he'd met him; downright sweet even. And Steve wondered if perhaps his bark was worse than his bite. However, when he'd been introduced to the man's boyfriend, Thor's adoptive brother Loki, he had quickly made a mental note not to upset him. Loki seemed to make it a sport to see how riled he could make his boyfriend, and Steve assumed it was perfectly safe for the slim, long haired man to do it, because the worst he'd was perhaps a little punishment and angry sex. Which, Loki had assured him and perhaps delighting in the way his face lit up bright red, was their favourite kind of sex.

Either way, he learnt very quickly that he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of Bruce's wrath.

Of course, all of that was what made Bruce…well _Bruce_. The other reason he liked the guy was that he was the only guy on the football team who'd confidently come out to the rest of the college. Steve could respect that, it was a sort of bravery he hadn't been able to show yet.

Lifting his head off the table, Steve turned to look over his shoulder, hand half raised to wave in his fellow's direction. However what he saw had him freezing mid movement and made his heart start hammering in his chest. Standing next to Bruce, scowling in their direction was perhaps the most perfect being he'd ever seen in his life.

Now don't get him wrong; Steve isn't naive to believe in love at first sight. That's for little girls who watch too much Disney.

But this…this was pretty damn close.

The boy was short, a whole foot shorter than him if he had to guess, and had the wiry frame of a man who did a lot of physical exercise without meaning to. Unable to help himself he let his eyes rake up long, thin legs covered in slightly baggy light brown slacks, over the torso so unacceptably hidden by both a shirt _and_ a tank top. The side of his mind that wasn't indecently occupied with undressing the man with his eyes took note that his slacks were covered in splashes of what could be oil, that his clothes looked like he'd been in them for more than a day, and the tie around his neck had been undone and was hanging loosely down his chest.

His shoulders were broad, nowhere near as broad as Steve's of course, but the blonde decided the man must be part of the engineering department, if his oil smudged trousers and tousled hair was anything to go by, and probably did his fair share of heavy lifting. And if Steve had thought the man's body to be a work of perfection, his face was nothing short of _exquisite_. His hair was a dark brown, that strange colour where you weren't sure if it was black or not, and shone in a rich hue of colours when the sun hit it just right, tousled with no discernible style. His skin was toned, but oddly pale as if he didn't spend enough time in the sun, but Steve was certain that if he did it would darken beautifully.

His lips looked perfect, even when they were pulled down into a frown, and the blonde desperately wanted to make the boy smile, because he could imagine it would light up his entire face, he could imagine how soft they would be... The brunette had a long straight nose, equally darkened by an oil stain, and the little furrow in his brow made Steve's stomach clench uncomfortably. His eyes simmered as he glared up at Bruce, a dark coffee in colour, framed by long dark lashes, before they flickered in their direction again.

Steve lowered his hand and stared right back, unable to look away when the boy's gaze locked with his own. The shorter of the two was obviously a little startled by his unwavering scrutiny but he didn't waver, his heart hammering in his chest when the brunette finally turned away from him, jabbing a finger down on the tablet in his hand.

"Breathe Rogers," Clint interrupted dryly, startling the blonde enough to duck his head, cheeks stained red and incredibly ashamed of himself.

He wasn't in the habit of trying to mentally undress people; and what he'd just done to the brunette with Bruce had been the very thing he often reprimanded other guys for doing to girls.

But…he hadn't been able to _help it_.

"W-Who's Bruce talking to?" he asked finally, after gasping a huge breath, trying desperately to sound nonchalant. He could tell from the look that Clint was giving him that he had failed. Horribly.

"That's Tony Stark," the stocky man answered quickly, trying to finish his explanation before Bruce finally reached them, "Arrogant, spoilt little brat. He was the Valedictorian of last year's graduates; apparently, one degree wasn't enough for him, so he decided to come back for his doctorate and to do another two on the side. If you think Bruce is smart, that kid over there is probably four times as clever. Genius only scrapes the surface."

Glancing up at Bruce, who was smirking and making his way over to them, leaving his sullen friend to sulk alone Clint offered Steve his final piece of advice, frowning slightly, "He's bad news, Steve. Best just forget it. Hey, Banner, you been trapped in the lab again, we haven't seen you for two days!"

"Loki has been moping around the house complaining that you haven't called," Thor interjected sternly. "You know what mischief he gets up to when he's bored."

Steve found himself drifting off as Bruce explained what he'd been up to, baffling them with terms and equations none of them could hope to understand. They bore it amiably of course; they were his friends after all. Despite himself he found his gaze wandering in the direction Bruce had just come from, feeling his heart leap into his throat when he noticed Tony was still standing, glaring at the physicist's back.

Whether it was because he could see Steve staring from the corner of his eye or that the heat of the blonde's gaze alerted him that he was being watched Tony shot a glance in his direction. The blonde offered the boy a small smile, half lifting his hand to wave, but before he could follow through with the action the brunette had turned his back and strode through the door of the science block.

Frowning slightly Steve turned his attention back to the conversation, startled that it had moved onto the topic of tonight's party and who was attending. He tried to ignore the knowing look Bruce was giving him, or the thinly veiled words of warning Clint tried again and instead focused on Thor's insistence that Loki shouldn't go because the last time he had he'd spiked the non-alcoholic beverages.

No matter what happened, Steve was **not** drinking tonight. He really didn't trust himself not to make a fool of himself.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but Ms Potts isn't answering her phone."

Tony glanced up from the claw of the latest Dum-E robot he was trying to get up and running to help out in the lab come workshop he'd all but cordoned off as his own. It had been his proclaimed space since his second year, and now he was back to do his doctorate and expand his understanding of physics and mechanical engineering he had reclaimed his territory. Many of the second, third and fourth years who had access to the labs and workshops knew that it was his, and that he didn't like to share.

Some poor unsuspecting first years had tried to kick him out when he'd been arms deep in wiring and very close to possibly electrocuting himself – to say they would perhaps be re-evaluating their life choices might have been a bit of an understatement…Ok, so it was a huge understatement. But they'd pissed him off and he'd decided to take them to pieces. They had deserved it. Cretins.

"Then call her home number," Tony replied tersely, grinding his teeth as he hoisted the heavy mechanical arm up from the table to the frame of the robot. Supporting the structure on his shoulder he quickly set about attaching it, screwing in bolts and holding the nuts in between his teeth. Yes, the sooner this Dum-E was finished the better – at least then he wouldn't have to do all of the heavy lifting alone.

"Sir, she hasn't answered that either. Should I leave a message?"

Cursing quietly under his breath Tony added another bolt and mumbled a negative. Pepper was clearly hoping he'd starve to death.

That was the only reason she wasn't here yet with his lunch/dinner. She knew damn well he hated the cafeteria food and wouldn't go near the stuff even if it was his primary, no, his **only** source of sustenance. Besides, he would have to get a tray. And then one of those too-perky women would ask him what he wanted and hand over a plate of some unappealing mash of some description.

Tony felt his stomach roil in displeasure. His two most hated things, inedible food and being _handed_ something.

No, cafeterias were certainly not for Tony.

He tried to steer clear of the space as much as he could, in fact. All those people around him; some staring at him because of who his father was, staring at him because he was a genius, because they thought he was good looking, because they thought he was an _ass_, it was all a little too much to deal with. And Tony prized himself on having a brain capable of processing ten equations at once.

Either way put him in a room full of people without a glass of liquid courage and all of that meant nothing. He knew how to socialize of course; he quite often got his own way because he was, very simply, charismatic; all he had to do was walk into a room and people would stop and stare.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

More than once he wished he could just melt into the background; perhaps a little bit like Bruce's boyfriend. Anyone who knew Loki well would have noticed his uncanny ability to be somewhere and then suddenly not be there. Or the other way around…

After it became apparent the brunette genius didn't like him doing it Loki had made it a habit to sneak up on him as much as possible. Usually when he has a blow torch in his hand or something equally as dangerous. He had never taken Loki to be a thrill seeker, but he assumed he must be if he liked putting himself in situations where Tony could inadvertently burn him or cut one of his limbs off.

Banner had tried to get the idiot to stop, but Loki was a persistent little bastard. He'd turn his gaze up to Bruce, wide and apologetic until Banner gave in and would then smirk in Tony's direction when the huge physicist wasn't looking. He could definitely see why his family and friends called him the _God of mischief_.

The man was a complete _nightmare._

Coming from Tony…that meant a lot.

Tony let his mind wander to the strange encounter he'd had earlier that afternoon when he'd been fighting with Bruce over his projections for the gamma radiation chamber the older physicist had been talking about for some time. There was no _way_ that thing would hold under the levels of radiation the man was suggesting. Even when he was faced with cold, hard **fact** Bruce held that his calculations were correct.

Idiot was going to get himself _killed_.

And Tony wouldn't be happy about it.

Bruce was the closest thing to a friend he had, and he'd be damned if the man was going to die because he'd refused to listen to logic. He was the only other person on campus he could have a decent conversation with; the fact that he was part of the football team didn't matter. After all, the man was a physicist turned jock and hadn't been bought onto the team until the year before and that was good enough for him.

No matter what, Bruce wasn't allowed to go anywhere.

Not to mention he was the only one who could keep his menace of a lover under control.

He had been about to mention these two factors when they had been rudely interrupted by Barton and his little group of friends. He'd been, justifiably, angry; especially when Bruce had looked over at them and then back to him apologetically. He'd known immediately that he was going to be blown off; the apologetic look wasn't for the disruption, but for the fact that he was going to join his other friends.

Tony had childishly pursed his lips and muttered something irritably before watching his friend jog towards the picnic table and the rest of those jocks. A quick look over them had told him all he needed to know; Barton was being his usual quiet pain in the ass self and like always Tony didn't quite know what was going on with the guy and Thor (how Loki put up with him he had no idea) was making stupid declarations in that booming voice of his.

Well…Tony had _assumed_ they were stupid as he couldn't exactly hear what the huge man had been saying. But it was _Thor_ so it couldn't have been something incredibly intelligent.

The shock of cropped short blonde hair, however, had been a new addition.

Even more unnervingly the man had been staring at him.

And when Tony said staring he meant the blonde was **really gawking** at him. He had looked back awkwardly for a moment, but the usual indignation he felt when he realised he was being watched didn't surface. Instead he'd felt heat creep up the back of his neck and his stomach had burst into a flurry of movement – there was something sincere and _honest_ in those baby blues it was hard to be angry.

After a moment or so, where he had found himself not only speechless but very, very flustered Tony had done the only thing that came to mind. He'd turned tail and fled into the safety of his workshop.

He'd been here ever since.

_I guess,_ Tony mused quietly to himself as he tightened the nuts, making sure the mechanical arm was firmly in place with no danger of falling or coming away from the structure of the bot, _There are worse things than being stared at by a jock…Ah what the hell am I thinking? That guys probably a complete bastard, and if he's not he soon will be. No point thinking about it – he's a jock in-training…even if he does have beautiful eyes…and damn those arms. Bet they could -_

"Ouch! _Shit!_"

Turning his attention to his bleeding finger and cursing his clumsiness Tony put the digit in his mouth, sucking with a wince. The blonde wasn't even here and he was a distraction. That really wasn't good – he couldn't afford distractions.

At least not the permanent kind.

Oh well, a thought for another time. Perhaps when his finger wasn't throbbing quite so painfully.

"What's got you preoccupied?"

Tony swivelled quickly and ducked under the mechanical arm before glaring at Pepper, who had just stepped into the room. He would have been angrier, but the smell of the delicious, sinfully bad for you Burger King meal hanging innocently by the red head's side had him relaxing marginally, "Where've you been? You usually come by at four, it's five thirty. We don't pay you to be late, Pepper."

As if to prove a point his stomach growled loudly and Tony wasted no time in darting to the woman and snatching the bag from her grasp. Prowling to the table he tore the paper aside and stuffed a couple of fries into his mouth, trying to mask the audible sigh of pleasure. He hadn't realised he was _that_ hungry. Maybe an hour more and the cafeteria could have been a very real threat.

Despite his rude words the red head simply snorted and shook her head, shutting the door behind her as she walked towards him. Taking a seat on one of the free stools lining the workbench Pepper crossed her legs and watched the Stark prodigy munch his way through the fast food.

_For such an intelligent man he really can be such a child…_

Brushing her thought aside she tucked her hair behind her ears, "Something cropped up and I had to deal with it. Besides, I'm your PA Tony, not your slave."

"Have you looked in the dictionary recently, Pep?" the brunette asked between mouthfuls, "PA and slave are practically the same damn thing. And what _'cropped up'_? I don't like it when you say things like that, it always means something bad."

Pepper took a moment to answer and that merely confirmed his fears, whatever had made the red head late did not bode well for him. "Your dad wanted to know if you were free tonight, apparently he's having dinner with the Secretary of State detailing his rights and outlining his contacts when dealing with foreign companies; he wanted you to be there."

_I bet he does_, Tony thought bitterly and shook his head, pushing his half eaten burger away from him. Pushing himself to his feet he paced across the room once, then again before stopping dead in his tracks, "JARVIS? Please check for any and all invitations I may have received for tonight – there has to be something I can do other than this dinner."

There was a pause where neither Tony nor Pepper moved as the AI did as Tony asked. Just when all hoped seemed lost and the brunette was starting to wonder if lying to his father, and by extension the Secretary of State, was a good idea JARVIS spoke up. "There's only one thing sir, it had been discarded last week. You were invited by Mr Banner to a party this evening; shall I send him a message saying you'll go?"

Tony didn't like this one bit, and Pepper was looking far too smug about the whole thing. "I can either spend the night watching a bunch of idiots drink their body mass in alcohol _or_ I can spend the evening in my delightful father's company…What the hell kind of situation is this?"

"I believe they call it choosing the 'lesser of two evils', sir."

Scowling at the AI's words Tony turned to his long term carer and confidante, "You heard the man, I've already got plans, tell 'daddy' I'm awfully sorry."

Pepper laughed quietly at the sour look on the genius' face, despite not relishing the duty of telling Howard that his son had refused dinner to go to a party, and got to her feet. "Don't pout, Tony. Who knows, you might enjoy yourself."

When the boy snorted and turned away she patted him on the shoulder and offered him a sly wink, "At the very least you can mull over your little crush, whoever they may be. I haven't seen you looking like that since I found out you fancied Cassidy Grange when you first came here."

"Shut up, Pepper," Tony snapped, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he watched her exit the workshop, laughing loudly.

* * *

Steve was not enjoying the party.

He put on a smile, of course, whenever his teammates looked over at him and cajoled him into taking another shot, but really he just wanted to go back to his room, brush his teeth and forget about the monstrosity Thor had just made him down. He didn't care if it was a _classic_, it tasted like paint stripper and made his stomach lurch.

"Not to worry, I can't abide his concoctions either," Loki whispered conspiratorially in his ear when the mammoth blonde had turned to welcome Jane and Darcy to the celebrations. "I always find a well-placed smile and a potted plant works perfectly."

"Are we sure that we won't kill the plant?" Steve asked playfully. Though still a little unnerved and shy around Loki, he found it easy to relax around his friend's younger brother…perhaps too easy.

The brunette offered him a sly smile and shrugged, quietly pouring his drink into the pot behind him, prompting Steve to do the same, "You decide, the plant's life or your own. There are no shades of grey where my brother's alcohol is concerned."

With that Loki disappeared into the crowd, no doubt to find Bruce and left Steve to hover near the furthest wall of the common room, biting his lip anxiously when he noticed the large group of freshmen girls who had been eying him up all night began to make their way towards him. Knowing he would never have the guts to turn all of them down if they asked for a dance the blonde swiped a drink from the table and followed Thor's mischievous younger brother's example.

The bass was loud enough to send his blood singing in his veins and his heart thump to the beat of the song blaring out of the hurriedly set up speakers as Steve finally stopped against another wall, happy to have escaped the unwanted attention. He was starting to feel the buzz of alcohol fogging up the edges of his mind when he reached the bottom of his beer, around the same time that Bruce finally found him. Loki was sulking just behind him, alerting the blonde that the slimmer man had probably been thwarted by his boyfriend in the middle of a prank.

Distantly he thought that Bruce would make it up to Loki in due time, but his attention was immediately captured by the second, short and mildly apathetic brunette trailing behind his friend. After what Clint had said he honestly hadn't expected to see Tony Stark here. At a party. With people…He knew the stocky linesmen had been exaggerating. There was no way someone who looked like that could be so incredibly unsociable.

"Steve! Thor and Clint dragged you here I guess. Glad you could come, you spend too much time in your room," Bruce bellowed over the music, handing the blonde another drink, though this time Steve wasn't sure what it was. The brunette winked at his questioning glance and clapped him on the shoulder, "Loki's liquid courage. It'll loosen you up; you look terrified."

Tony, who had been purposefully late, had been trying to ignore the shocked stares being turned in his direction as Bruce spoke with one of his friends, and with an irritable sigh he turned to look at the older man, intending to tell him that he was going to get a drink; however his gaze was caught suddenly by a pair of impossibly blue eyes and heat immediately bloomed in his abdomen. He should have been prepared for this; _of course_, the freshman jock **would** be here, it was the final party of the orientation. It was practically _his_ party.

Deciding quickly he wasn't in any position to begin dealing with this new development he awkwardly shook the blonde's hand when it was extended. So the man's name was _Steve_? He could deal with that, it suited the quarterback at any rate and without another word he, reluctantly, let go of that warm, large hand (the kind of hand that could do so many _wrong_ things to him) and turned his back on the three, making his way to the drinks table on the other side of the room.

Steve looked a little hurt and lost for a moment before he all but downed the drink Bruce had pushed into his hands and excused himself leaving Bruce and Loki to stare at each other.

"Well…And I thought **we** had sexual tension mastered before we got together," Loki mused quietly, forcing Bruce to dip down to hear him. "Those two make it look _tame_."

Bruce didn't like the look on Loki's face one bit, it meant nothing but pure, mayhem inducing foolishness and he wasn't sure he could stop it this time. "Whatever you're scheming, stop it right now. The last thing Steve and Tony need is you sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong," he said sternly, forcing the brunette to look at him.

"Scheming? Me? You should know by now, Bruce, I don't _scheme,_" Loki answered with a grin and easily danced out of the bigger man's grasp, "I'm not going to interfere. Just going to give them a little nudge in the right direction is all."

Before Bruce could say anything to deter him, Loki was gone.

"Shit…"

* * *

**Authors Note 2:**I know, I know. I cut it off just as it was going to get good, but the chapter was getting too long and I wanted to update before I went to bed.

Just so you know, much of what came out in this chapter **was not planned!** In fact I had the draft next to me the whole time and something completely different to what I had been expecting came out. I was sitting at my computer rocking back and forth muttering: _"This isn't how it was meant to go!"_  
Then I sucked it up and decided to go with it, because the characters refused to do it my way. :(

Loki wasn't originally in this fiction, and if he was, it was going to be a tiny, inconsequential role – now he's turned into a complete disaster and stomped across my page with big boots and left his muddy footprints all over the place. It really isn't fair.  
I won't say much more, because I might inadvertently give something away, but I just wanted you all to know what a b**ch this chapter was to me. I feel like it's taken me by the collar and dragged me along for a ride. Hope you enjoyed.  
I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, I'm going to guess in about four or five days, but I make no promises. :)  
Have fun until then guys! xxx


	5. Chapter 4

**Authors Note:** I desperately **love** Loki, he's a breeze to write; but I still honestly don't know how he's managed to get such a big part in this…especially not a beginning part of a chapter dedicated almost solely to him and to Bruce! It made me giggle when _i heart manga89_ mentioned that she didn't ship Bruce/Loki – if I'm being deadly honest neither did I until last chapter. xD It sort of just happened…and now I love it. ;) Which is why I'll probably have a little interlude at some point detailing how they got together.

Either way I'm spending a lot of my time feeling like the reader, as opposed to the author, where this story is concerned – I'm right there with you guys, I don't know what the _hell_ is coming next!

I'm feeling really bad for Thor and Clint, who I had actually planned to feature heavily. Oh well, maybe later on in the plot, boys. What can I say – I guess Loki's just an attention whore. :/

I'm also a little scared; this is turning into a bit of an epic in my head. There are so many developing side plots and anecdotes I can't _not_ put in – so I'm going to warn you, we might be in this for the long haul.

A few warnings for this chapter, adult content and the usual jazz. You know that already though, this is after all marked as M. ;)

This also hasn't been beta'd and I haven't gone through it with a fine tooth comb as it's 12.30am and I'm knackered. xD There will be mistakes in this chapter, sorry!

Hope you all enjoy the chapter and update and thank you for your continued support. Every fav story, story alert and review alert makes my day. Thank you! xxx

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Loki was more than capable of being subtle when he wanted to be. You could call it a talent, blessing, gift, _whatever_; he tended not to over evaluate his aptitude for going unnoticed and lying. He wasn't a fan of looking gift horses in the mouth; all he knew was that he was _damn good_ at what he did. Thor thought he was mischief maker, and he would readily concede that he was – the thrill of executing an intricate façade that would eventually blow up in his victims' faces was unparalleled; well, perhaps the only thing better was riling his boyfriend up.

But that was neither here, nor there.

The point was, when he'd seen the opportunity to cause some havoc between his on-off friend and their new star quarterback Loki hadn't been able to help himself. He'd been drawn into his own plans like a mouth to a very bright, very fiery flame.

It was why he was now hiding from Bruce and had his sharp, calculating eyes on both Tony _and_ Steve; the former seemed to be trying to drown himself in alcohol and the latter seemed to have already done that. The blonde was blatantly ignoring whatever Clint was talking to him about in favour of nursing another drink and glaring holes into the floor at his feet.

What a dilemma.

_Where to start, where to start…_

Running his tongue over his lower lip Loki allowed the music to pulse through his body, shuddering in anticipation as he mulled over his strategy. Grinning wildly as his half formed ideas started to take shape, the brunette slowly weaved his way through the gyrating, hot bodies until he was stood next to the genius engineer. It took him a moment to notice, but after a beat or so Tony glanced across at him and yelped, clutching his heart.

"**Fuck**, Loki! Don' _do tha'_!"

Loki's smile simply widened at Tony's slur, until he was sure his face was almost split inside and watched as the younger man shifted under his gaze. "My apologies," he said, dipping his head drolly as he crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the table. "I was simply wondering how long you're going to wait before you decide to do something about…well, _you know_."

Irritation flickered in Tony's eyes for a moment as his gaze flickered in Steve's direction before a scowl set itself between his eyebrows. "I don' know wha' you're talkin' 'bout," he answered after a moment and tossed back the shot he'd poured himself. "I'm **fine**."

"Of course you are," the trickster agreed with a placating sort of smile. "The fact that you're trying to turn your body from sixty percent water to sixty percent _tequila_ is completely unrelated to the blonde haired, blue eyed bombshell you've eye raping for the last twenty minutes."

Tony looked like he wanted to deny Loki's words for a moment, but instead he grunted unintelligibly and turned back to the table, about ready to have another shot since the pleasant burn in the back of his throat was already subsiding. He glowered as thin fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling him easily and he looked up, opening his mouth to make the man _let go_.

His mouth snapped shut quickly at the look on the man's face and with a sigh he ran his free hand through his hair, "Wha' can I say tha'll make you go 'way?"

"Oh I don't know. A heartfelt confirmation that you want to fuck Steve Rogers into a mattress…or have Rogers screw _you_ into a mattress, whatever floats your boat," Loki answered, smirking at the blush that pooled in the engineer's cheeks. "I'll take that as a yes to the second then."

"Shu' up," Tony retorted, staring at his feet as Loki chuckled to himself. "Wha' does it matter if I…if I _do_? He's a distraction. I don' need di - distractions – I've go' enough to do withou' some…some dim-witted frat boy followin' me around."

Loki tutted quietly but allowed the smaller brunette to pull his hand away and shook his head, "Such language, Mr Stark. Whatever does your delightful Ms Potts think?"

"Doesn' matter what Pepper thinks, now you gonna fuck off or no'?"

Laughing loudly then trickster shook his head again and placed a hand over his heart. "I'm truly wounded, Tony. Especially since I came all this way to _help you_."

Tony snorted. "Like you can help."

"Distractions don't just _go away_, Tony. At least not **quickly**; if you want to be able to focus again you've got to give your body what it wants, at least then you won't be constantly wondering if he's as good a lay as you think he is. One little taste, that's all and then you won't want him anymore, you can get on with your oh-so busy life."

Tony looked down at his drink, swirling the clear liquid around the glass as he thought over Loki's words; he wasn't sure if it was because he was well on his way to being completely plastered but that made…**sense**. He didn't say anything, simply gave the taller brunette a pointed look, knocked his drink back and handed the man his now empty glass.

"You're quite welcome," Loki chuckled as the engineer disappeared through the crowd in Steve's direction and placed the glass down on the table next to him. Mission accomplished; from what he'd seen the blonde had been completely smitten with Tony, there was no way the poor guy was going to be able to resist when he'd had _that much_ to drink.

And even if he could…Tony was a stubborn, persistent bastard, and spoilt to boot – he got what he wanted, even if he had to pull every single underhanded trick he knew to get it.

Just as he'd twisted the cap off of a beer and was getting ready to settle in for the night and watch the fireworks, a pair of arms, corded with muscle, wrapped around his waist and pulled him near. Warm lips brushed across the shell of his ear and Loki whined quietly in the back of his throat as Bruce nipped his fleshy lobe with sharp teeth.

Those thick arms tightened marginally and the slim brunette tried to turn his head, but Bruce held him firmly in place, teasing his ear at his own leisure. "Found you…"

Loki shuddered.

He knew that voice, the light growl that had entered it, the way it had lowered in timbre to a low rumble in the larger man's chest. Yes, Loki knew that voice well; it was the voice that sent him reeling and his desire into overdrive. It was a voice that let him know that Bruce had had enough to drink to lower his inhibitions; it was what told him that his boyfriend wasn't scared to play a little rough, or to show him exactly how _possessive_ he could be.

With another breathy sigh, Loki arched his back, pressing himself flush against his lover and tilted his head to give him better access. Large hands gripped his hips firmly and with a small pout he realised he wasn't going to be able to watch his plot come together…Not that he could complain much when he considered what Bruce was surely planning on doing to him.

"Hmmmm," Bruce rumbled against him and turned his face to nose at Loki's hair gently, one hand dipping down to gently brush the heel of his palm against the ever growing bulge in the smaller man's jeans. "Missed you."

Eyes flashing dangerously the trickster easily brushed his lover's hand away and turned in his grasp, ignoring the growl of disappointment and irritation that followed his actions. Pressing himself flush against the huge footballer Loki hooked his leg up onto Bruce's hip with a small, seductive smirk, "Want to show me how much?"

His challenge was met immediately by warm lips seizing his own and he groaned quietly as Bruce hoisted his other leg up, forcing him to lock his ankles at his lower back. No one blinked as the pair staggered out of the common room towards the stairs, lips locked and pawing at each other.

* * *

Tony couldn't begin to fathom exactly what he was doing – or why he was following the advice given to him by a man notorious for tricking people and getting them into a big hole they can't climb out of. Surely he hadn't drunk **that** much? But there was the blonde haired footballer, leaning against the wall with his idiot friend Clint looking glum.

_Maybe someone kicked his puppy…_

Pausing, the engineer bit his lip and allowed his gaze to freely ravage the man in front of him. There wasn't any one part of Steve that he didn't desire on some level, his hair hung just over his forehead, somehow managing to look somewhere between styled and natural and was a perfect length to tug and wrap his fingers in. Then there was that strong jaw that he could easily imagine kissing down, pale skin that would bruise so easily.

His sheer bulk made Tony's pulse quicken and his blood turn to molten magma in his veins; those thickly muscled arms would be able to manhandle him into any position, lift him and turn him and flip him, and those hands…Damn those hands, holding his hips, running up his thighs, grasping and tugging and –

_Focus Tony!_

Forcing himself back into the present Tony squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to ignore the way Steve seemed to be **burned **into his retinas. When he finally opened his eyes a familiar blue gaze, eyes that had been in the back of his mind more often than he'd like to admit, held him in place. He could see the mild confusion mixed with concern swirling in those pools and, with a strength of will he hadn't known he possessed, Tony forced himself to finish walking towards the two footballers.

Clint didn't look impressed.

"Well if it isn't the illustrious Anthony Stark," Clint provoked gruffly, turning to glare at the engineer as he stopped in front of him and Steve. "How kind of you to grace us with your presence _your majesty_."

"Lay off, Clint," Steve leapt in quickly and eased himself up and away from the wall. He put his half empty glass on the sideboard near his elbow and awkwardly smiled at Tony, shifting from foot to foot. "Good to see you again…Bruce and Loki leave?"

Tony shrugged and shot Clint a nasty look before setting his gaze on Steve, momentarily blinding the blonde as his eyes simmered like molten chocolate. "Dunno, came to find you didn' I."

"Oh I gue – Hang on, _what_?"

Tony smirked and slowly pointed at himself, "I." He paused and made a broad sweeping movement with his hand, continuing as if he were talking to a five year old, "Came ta see." He pointed at his eyes, then back at Steve, "You."

Steve knew he should be insulted that the genius had just treated him like a five year old, but frankly at this point he really didn't care. Tony could have told him he was a completely incompetent idjit and he would still be jumping for joy. Well…maybe not quite. But the fact that the dark haired engineer had come all of this way (the entire length of a room, but hey it was crowded) just to talk to him made his chest tighten in muted pleasure.

"Oh I…I er…"

"Wha's wrong, Cap? Cat go' your tongue?"

The blonde pulled a face. "I'm not the captain."

Tony shrugged, his expression making it more than clear that it didn't matter. "In my experience mos' quarterbacks, which I've been reliably – " he paused as his slur became slightly more pronounced and he had to stop and _think_ about what he wanted to say, "informed tha' you _are_, have always…Wha' was I saying?"

Steve smiled a little and bit his lip gently; Tony was struck by the sudden urge to lean up and take it between his own teeth. "I think you were saying something about me being a captain?"

The engineer looked confused for a moment before his face lit up and he nodded, "Ah yeah, quarterbacks are always captains, and if they ain't they have been or _will be_. Why the hell didn't I jus' say that?"

"I don't know, Tony."

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke and Clint looked like he wanted nothing more than to drag his slightly naïve friend away from the spoilt, womanizing piranha. Steve was about to open his mouth to ask Tony what he was studying but the brunette cut across him quickly, "I like this song…Com'on, we're gonna go dance."

"Tony, I don't think that's…"

"_Love me cancerously,_

_Like the salt sores soaked in the sea._

_High maintenance means: you're a gluttonous queen,_

_Narcissistic and mean."_

Steve watched in awe as Tony wrapped his long, slightly calloused fingers around his hand and proceeded to drag him into the fray of hot, grinding bodies. He could feel Clint's disapproving, worried glare on his back but he chose to ignore it. He wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this. Hell he wasn't even sure he hadn't gotten drunk enough that the guys had dragged his ass up to his room to sober up; maybe this was all some bizarre alcohol induced dream.

Whatever it was he didn't plan on ending it any time soon.

He watched as the engineer stopped, seemingly satisfied they were far enough in and boldly pressed himself forward, no doubt bolstered by the alcohol Steve could smell on his breath. Or maybe it was his breath? Uncertain, he decided to _stop_ thinking and just go with it – he really didn't want to seem like a naïve little virgin. Even if that was exactly what he was…Well, the virgin part, probably not the naïve bit.

Or so he liked to think…

So sue him, he'd been a teenage boy questioning his sexuality and had had access to the internet. What the hell would _you_ have done?

Resting his hands on narrow hips the blonde gently swayed them in time to the metallic beat of the song, swallowing thickly as Tony placed his forearms up on his shoulders with a sultry smirk.

Steve was pretty sure he wasn't the first man the genius had seduced.

"_Kill me romantically;_

_Fill my soul with vomit, _

_Then ask me for a piece of gum._

_Bitter and dumb, you're my sugarplum._

_You're awful; I love you!"_

The feeling of those large hands on his hips sent Tony's feverish imagination into overdrive and he felt his breathing quicken slightly. Pressing his fingers into the soft flesh at the base of Steve's skull, he dragged blunt nails through blonde locks and grinned brazenly at the soft shudder that ran through the larger man. It was good to know that he wasn't the only one; it seemed like they were both putty in each other's hands.

"_You suck so passionately,_

_You're a parasitic, psycho._

_Filthy creature finger banging my heart,_

_You call me a drunk, does the fun ever start?" _

Through the hazy cloud of alcohol Steve could tell that things were perhaps not going to end well; but for once he decided to throw caution to the wind and just _go with it_. Dipping his head a fraction he slowly palmed his way to Tony's lower back, then dropped down to very gently, almost experimentally, cup the smaller man's ass.

The reaction was immediate; Tony made a little gasping sound in the back of his throat before setting his molten gaze on him properly, eyes locking on his. There no doubt how the night was going to end and Steve was perfectly happy about that. Taking the opportunity Steve's ducked head provided Tony push himself up onto his toes and mumbled into the blonde's ear. "Like wha' ya feel there, _Steve_?"

He had no idea if it was drink or if he'd somehow been possessed but the blonde practically _growled_ and squeezed his hands again, delighting in the slight hitch of breath that puffed over his ear. "You have no idea," he rumbled softly and, a little tentatively, he grazed his teeth against Tony's neck. "Complainin'?"

Steve would never admit it, but in the safety of his alcohol addled brain, he was rather pleased that he'd been silently watching Bruce and Loki interact with each other. It gave him a better understanding of what the hell he was meant to be doing right now. This wasn't something porn ever really helped prepare you for.

Whatever it was, Tony seemed to like it.

"No' at all," he answered smugly, "Bu' you're a shit dancer, Blondie."

"_How's your new boy?_

_Does he know about me?_

_You've got the mark of the beast._

_You're born of a jackal! You're beautiful!"_

"Am not," Steve mumbled into the brunette's ear, his pride stinging slightly at the accusation.

Tony sensed his companion's distraction and immediately took advantage of it. Without any warning he pushed himself up onto the balls of his feet and pressed his lips to Steve's. He felt the blonde freeze, knew that he'd thrown caution to the wind and that this could go one of two ways. The engineer just hoped, _prayed_ that he hadn't fucked this up, that the judgement had been good.

Just as the sharp pang of concern started to scrabble for purchase on his hazy rationale, Steve's lips moved experimentally against his as a low groan escaped him. Smugness swelled in Tony's chest and he allowed the blonde to set the pace of the kiss, enjoying the languid give and taste of affection, no matter how chaste it was.

"_She moves through moonbeams slowly;_

_She knows just how to hold me._

_And when her edges soften,_

_Her body if my coffin._

_I know she drains me slowly,_

_She wears me down to bones in bed._

_Wha' about that sign on my head?_

_That says…Oh…Love me __**dead**__."_

As the song slowly changed to another Tony brushed his tongue against the seam of Steve's lip, lightly, teasingly and coaxing the blonde to open his mouth. Whether Steve wanted him to know it or not, Tony knew the signs of a virgin, or at least someone near enough to one, and it set his heart drumming in his chest.

But damn…What the good captain lacked in experience he **more** than made up for in zeal.

Steve all but plunged his tongue into the engineer's mouth, groaning again and dragging the smaller man closer, kneading Tony's ass gently as he mapped out everything he could. After a moment he had to pull away for air and the pair stared at each other, panting heavily and pupils dilated with lust.

"_You know I said it's true…_

_You know I said it – it – it…_

_You know I said it's true,_

_I can feel the love can you feel it too?  
I can feel it all._

_I can feel it all."_

"You ge' me the fuck outta here righ' now," Tony hissed and grabbed the blonde's hand, already tugging him in the direction of the staircase.

The heavy bass of the music died down for a moment and slowly built as they rushed towards the exit, leaving a very disgruntled looking Clint and a gleeful Thor behind.

* * *

Steve wasn't quite sure how they'd got here.

The stairs had been taken nearly three at a time, and he was quite sure they'd been frantically making out against a wall in the fourth floor stairwell practically dry humping each other. When they had traversed the rest of the stairs and how he'd found his key and got them into his room he had no idea.

And if he was being quite honest now he had Tony straddling his hips kissing him like they might die any moment as they made themselves comfortable on his bed Steve really didn't give a flying fuck. He could figure it out tomorrow.

Murmuring his encouragement as their lips parted he watched as Tony gave him one of those diabolical smirks, the one that left him slightly breathless, and narrowed his gaze when the engineer lifted himself up a fraction. Steve just about managed to stop his twitching fingers from reaching up and tugging the genius back down; instead his eyes locked on the smooth chest that was slowly being revealed with each undone button.

Pushing himself up Steve pushed Tony's hand aside and denied the brunette the pace he wanted; pressing his lips to the hollow of Tony's collarbone he kissed and licked his way down the engineer's chest. Diverting his course to the dusky nipple to his left Steve gently licked, nipped and sucked until Tony was a quivering wreck; satisfied he moved to the other, his hands splayed over the smaller man's back, holding him in place.

Tony wrapped his hands in blonde hair, tugging and whining in the back of his throat, tossing his head back. "_Steve…"_

The quarterback paused and turned his gaze up, his fingers dipping under the waistband of Tony's slacks, smiling crookedly. At the third impatient tug to his hair he rubbed the brunette's defined hip bones with the pads of his thumbs, "Easy Tony, we can take our time."

Tony didn't have the heart to tell the blonde he didn't _want_ to take it slow. He wanted a quick, hard fuck so he could go back to eating, breathing and **living** mechanics and science. Instead he bit his lip and let the man pull him down for another breath stealing kiss. Before he could help himself, all his concerns disappeared as Steve rolled him beneath that broad chest.

Hooking his legs up over Steve's hips the brunette arched his back and tugged the base of Steve's shirt up over his head, dragging his palms over heated, pale skin, awestruck over the physique under his hands. Steve's lips found purchase in the hollow beneath his ear when the article of clothing was free from them and Tony didn't even try to muffle the heady groan that escaped him.

One large hand palmed his erection through his slacks and Tony turned his head to nip at Steve's ear, clenching his eyes shut. "Will you hurry the fuck up?"

Instead of looking cowed by Tony's outburst Steve simply chuckled at him and pulled away a fraction, raising an eyebrow at the dishevelled man beneath him. "Someone's impatient," he teased and pressed his lips to the engineer's before he could begin to complain. Reaching over Tony's head the blonde groped blindly for the bedside table, tugging the draw open and rummaging inside.

Cussing quietly as he pulled away from the lip lock Steve sat up and tossed things out of his way, trying to ignore the way Tony was wetly mouthing at his cock beneath his jeans. Groaning loudly the blonde swiped the bottle of lube and the condom from his draw and leant back down, grasping Tony's jaw firmly to hold the man in place.

Pulling away slowly and smiling at the whine Tony made when contact was lost, Steve shimmied his way down the brunette's body to sit on his ankles, toying with the button of those still stained beige slacks. Unable to deny himself any longer Steve popped the button and dragged them and the genius' underwear down to bunch at his knees. Removing himself from those legs he watched eagerly as Tony kicked the offending articles of clothing off and immediately spread his legs a fraction.

Grasping Tony's thighs, Steve spread them a little further and settled between his legs and quickly freed himself from his own jeans and boxers, tossing them to the floor with little regard. He didn't care that the bed was a little on the small side, and leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Tony's lips, Steve grabbed the lube and condom from the bed, tearing he packaging off quickly.

"You finally done teasin' me?" Tony murmured and brushed his legs against Steve's, grinning as the blonde poured a liberal amount of lube over his fingers. It slipped into a look of utter desperation however as those fingers wrapped around his cock and pumped him with light, teasing strokes. "F-Fuck, Steve…Com'on…No more…_ughn…_"

The blonde watched with a hooded gaze as Tony writhed in front of him before he slowly ghosted his fingers down towards the brunette's entrance. Prodding gently, and perhaps a little nervously, at the tight ring of muscle he slowly sunk in to the first knuckle, shuddering at the soft, incredibly _open_ noise Tony made in the back of his throat.

The preparation was rushed, hurried and rough. It was hard to be gentle with Tony practically bouncing on his fingers and making the most delicious keening sounds. All too soon Steve was kneeling between the brunette's legs, taking deep steeling breaths with the condom securely in place.

He didn't have long to enjoy the initial penetration, the first time he'd ever done it; because no sooner had he seated himself fully Tony was clawing at his back, demanding that he **move**.

The act itself wasn't much better. All of the teasing before had frayed their nerves and cut off Steve's patience and ability to go slow. It was messy and hot, with sweat slicked bodies slapping against each other.

Steve cradled Tony's head between his arms, pressed his forehead against the engineers and kissed him whenever those moans threatened to push him over the edge. Tony in turn wrapped his legs around Steve's waist and clung to the man like a limpet, hands clawing at the pale skin stretched across a broad back.

"Oh, _fuck!_...Tony."

The returned mantra of _'fuck, yes!'_ and _'right there, damn it don't stop'_ brought Steve's impending release into sharp focus and it was all the blonde could do to remember to wrap a hand around Tony's weeping erection.

Pumping quickly in time to his thrusts Steve dipped his head and sunk his teeth into the brunette's neck, his steady rhythm faltering. "Tony…So…So fucking close…Need you to come…"

Tony would never know if it was the heady tone of Steve's voice, the growl of pleasure or the demand itself that sent him over the edge.

All he _did_ know was that at a particularly hard jab to that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside him had him bowing his back, mouth open in a silent wail and him spilling his seed over his chest and Steve's hand.

Tony's climax all but tore Steve's from his body, and limbs twitching the pair collapsed into a sated mess.

The brunette would never admit he curled up against that large body as his mind hazily toed the line between consciousness and sleep. He barely heard mumble some cuss or words of awe before darkness overtook him.

Steve chuckled quietly to himself as Tony fell limp against him and with a grimace he reached over the bed for his discarded boxers. Quickly cleaning them both up with the strategically placed tissues by the side of his bed the blonde pulled the covers over them both and settled down next to the engineer.

"G'night, Tony," he murmured and slung an arm around the smaller man, resting his chin against the top of those dark locks.

* * *

Steve woke up that morning in the same way he did any other; alone.

He was angry about it.

And the worst part was he didn't know if he was angry at Tony for leaving or at himself for letting it happen in the first place.

* * *

**Author's note:** Angst, angst, sex and more angst. Not sure if this came out clichéd or not. Bleh.

As for the sex scene, if it seemed rushed it was meant to. I was sort of trying to convey their fumbling and it's not the slow, loving experience Steve's first time should probably have gone.

But not to worry, all is in hand! ;) I have it all planned.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter m'lovelies and have a fabulous day! Becci xxxx


	6. Chapter 5

**Authors Note:** No apologies for taking so long this time, I have no real excuse, only that I haven't been in the mood to write this chapter as I have a sneaking suspicion it's not going to go well. :/ Maybe I should change this to angst/romance instead of humour/romance, from what I've written so far there hasn't been much humour. At least nothing that doesn't constitute as out and out sarcasm.

Again, this chapter didn't come out how I was expecting, but I've long since accepted that – every time I think I know where it's going it throws a curveball at me. This also probably makes sense when you're rattling on a heck load of drugs too – flu sucks people, but apparently it's good for inspiration if nothing else. Hope you enjoy this instalment guys and gals. xxx

* * *

**Chapter Five**

None of the team dared move as their coach strode across the pitch, surveying them one by one with unnerving scrutiny; even with the somewhat comical eye patch across one eye. It had been the first thing Steve had been warned about by Clint, Bruce and Thor: _Rule number one – never ask about the eye, don't look at the eye, don't even __**think**__ about the eye._

Because damn it no one knew **how** Fury knew, but the scary as hell football coach and ex-player for the Michigan Wolverines always knew when you were thinking about his eye patch.

Of course that hadn't exactly worked out for Steve. Because the first goddamned thing he'd done while trying **not** to stare had been staring at the monstrosity on his coach's face that was screaming: _"Look at me!"_ He had also been mildly horrified that a couple of the boys behind him had grinned at each other at his mistake.

Which, to his dismay, had led to Fury turning his one good eye on him and asking him in a particularly no-nonsense rumble what exactly had him so intrigued.

Steve hadn't answered but had had the decency to look utterly shamefaced.

That was perhaps the one thing that saved his ass.

Fury had simply hummed and nodded before briefing the team on their plan of action for that year.

But it seemed that he couldn't do a damn thing right; he'd been staring at the ground for the past ten minutes, only half listening to Fury summing up their practise. All he could think about was what had happened the night before, small things replaying, over and over again; rubbing salt in his wounds.

It had made training a very difficult thing to focus on. It wasn't something he was used to; usually it was easy to shut off and just go with it, let instinct take over, but this…This was different. His footwork was all over the place, he'd missed the ball more times than he ever wanted to admit to and had been tackled so frequently that he was sure he was going to look like a bruised patchwork blanket by the next morning.

At no point had Tony insinuated that he wanted anything more than a one night stand, at no point had it ever been more than that, and he had woken up in the way all one night stands did – cold and alone.

But still…Tony had been…amazing.

Even if the sex had been nothing for the genius, it couldn't have been more perfect as far as he was concerned. He didn't remember too much, what between the alcohol and the somewhat rushed act itself, but what he did…he could still hear Tony's soft moans, the whines he made when he'd held him down. The initial shock at the slightly slower speed before the brunette had practically melted into the sheets.

Nothing could top it.

That was it. He was ruined.

"You enjoying whatever little trip you're taking, Rogers?"

_Oh crap…_

Jerking his head up the blonde felt a hot blush crawl its way up the back of his neck; a quick glance around told him that the team had been dismissed without him even realising it. Which left him looking like a bit of an idjit watching the grass grow – offering Fury a shamefaced, apologetic smile he finally answered, "No, sir. Sorry, I just – "

"Do you have a problem, Rogers?" Fury asked, cutting across the younger man easily.

Say what you would about the coach of the football team; sure he might not gush over his players and mollycoddle them, but no one could say he didn't care about his boys. He just believed that sometimes a little bit of tough love was necessary.

As Steve slowly shook his head and dropped his gaze, Fury mimicked the action with an exasperated sigh, "I'm not going to push this. Whatever it is has got your panties in a right bunch, but fix it, Rogers. I don't want to have to bench you without giving you a shot because your head's in the clouds. Now, I suggest you catch up with your teammates and hit the showers. Do not make a habit of this, do you understand?"

Face still burning, Steve nodded once and broke into a brisk jog, swiping his helmet off the grass as he flat out _ran_ to the locker room. As soon as the familiar odour of sweat and the almost overwhelming cloud of deodorant hit him he knew he was safe. **How **he'd managed to avoid Fury's wrath he really wasn't sure, the man was always grumbling about how it felt like he was playing nursemaid to a bunch of five year olds.

Either way, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Deciding to skip the shower in favour of having a longer, private one when he got back to his room, where he could mope and wallow in his self-disgust in silence, Steve peeled his kit off, tossing the shoulder pads into his locker. He could hear the other guys laughing in the shower room, talking about who screwed who the night before, enjoying the latest gossip.

Bruce had disappeared with Loki at some point, that much he could remember, and knowing Thor he would have been a real gentleman and walked Jane back to her room. As for Clint…He couldn't be sure what the man had got up to because he'd left.

All the blonde knew was that he really didn't want to talk to the afore mentioned man; Clint had been glaring at him most of practise, he'd even _tackled_ him because he hadn't been paying full attention and looked like he had more than a few choice words for him. As much as he was grateful for the show of concern he really didn't need a lecture.

Slamming his locker shut Steve tugged on his jeans and sweater, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair before hoisting his bag over his shoulder. It seemed that luck was on his side; he didn't run into Clint, or Thor, or Bruce for that matter. Apparently, he was going to be given the much appreciated opportunity to just walk back to his dorm room without any hassle.

Of course, that was all ruined when he saw a shock of messy brown hair and another rumpled sweater vest.

_God damn it…I always speak too soon._

His first reaction was to turn tail and run for it. No one could blame him. No one could call him a coward…But when he saw that Loki had clocked him, the blonde knew it was no longer an option. It would be obvious he'd fled, but he had no way to gauge how much, or how little, the genius engineer had told the mischievous troublemaker.

So, Steve played it the only way he knew how. He smiled, perhaps a little awkwardly, and waved in their direction.

Loki almost immediately waved back, murmuring something out of the corner of his mouth in the inventor's direction. Stark, unsurprisingly, had had his face lowered to read whatever it was he had on the tablet in his hand, and when he glanced up at him he simply raised an eyebrow. The blonde felt his heart all but hammer against his chest and he tugged his lower lip between his teeth anxiously, waiting for Tony to make the first move.

Only…he never did.

The brunette muttered something back to Loki and turned on his heel to stride back the way he'd come towards the workshops.

Steve would never admit that he _felt_ himself all but deflate.

That was it. Everything up to this point had been mere speculation, a pessimistic explanation as to why the engineer hadn't been there when he'd woken up that morning. This, on the other hand, was undeniable proof that last night had been nothing but a thing and that he should move on.

He would be more than happy to do that, of course, if he wasn't so sure that no other man could live up to what had happened the night before.

Sure it had been a little awkward at times, and messy and just…wrong on so many levels. But, and Steve really did _hate_ that he was starting to sound like more of a hallmark card than usual, it had also been so very _right_.

That didn't, however, change the fact that Tony had just walked away without even acknowledging his existence.

Nor did it change the fact that Loki was walking towards him waving again.

And it certainly didn't change the fact that Clint was standing right behind him looking at him, then Loki and then him again.

_This isn't going to go well…_

But instead of shouting at him, Clint turned on his friend's mischievous younger brother, "What hell were you playing at?"

Neither Steve nor Loki moved for a long moment, both settling for staring at the stocky footballer with varying levels of shock on their faces. That didn't seem to deter the larger brunette and Clint strode towards the astrophysics student, hands balled into fists at his side, "What possessed you to set that spoilt brat on Steve?"

"Clint…What are you – "

Steve didn't get the opportunity to ask his question as the older boy cut him off with a decisive gesture. Of course, none of what Clint was saying made any sense; Loki had already left with Bruce by the time Tony had made his move. And from the slightly affronted look on Loki's face it couldn't have been something as cruel as a bet.

Could it…?

"You just couldn't help but meddle could you? You _always meddle. _Exactly how did you expect this to end? Your bullshit plan was only ever going to go one way. You know damn well that Stark just fucks 'em and leaves 'em, what made you think this time would be any different?"

For once Loki's silvery tongue didn't come to his aid; he couldn't easily answer without breaking his forced promise of confidentiality with Tony, and there were many things Loki was happy to do, but breaking a promise wasn't one of them. He opened his mouth slowly, his mind racing to come up with an explanation, anything to stop Clint's temper getting any more out of hand.

"**Back off, Barton**."

The three of them turned suddenly to see Bruce glaring at Clint, hands balled into fists

"I don't agree with Loki's actions either. But don't you dare fucking talk to him like that."

Clint seemed to have enough wherewithal to take a slow step back and away from Loki as Bruce quickly settled himself in front of the slighter brunette. As Banner's muscles bunched under the astrophysicist's gentle grasp Steve was a little worried that they were about to get a first-hand experience of why people called Bruce the Hulk on the football pitch and he in turn pulled Clint back and placed himself marginally in front of the stockier man.

"Natasha told me everything," Barton spat, glaring in the trickster's direction, "She said – "

Loki's easy laugh cut across Clint's words, "Ah, and the truth will out. Are you just pissed off Rogers got some from Stark last night when Romanov still refuses to put out? I would have thought you'd give up by now, she's obviously not interested."

"Why you little – "

"**Enough!**"

Steve practically jumped out of his skin as Thor's voice boomed across their bickering; the huge blonde very rarely rose his voice, but when he did it was always near deafening. Smile stretched tight across his lips Thor slowly rested a hand on Clint's shoulders, "Please calm down, my friend. My brother doesn't know when to hold his tongue."

Thor gave Loki a very pointed look before continuing, "But I am certain he would not have hurt Steve intentionally – whatever pain has been caused was caused by accident. Is this right, Loki?"

"For once, Thor – yes."

He would never be entirely sure how to thank Thor for disarming the argument, but Steve _did_ settle for a relieved smile sent in the larger blonde's direction. "And you forgive his error?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Loki didn't do anything," he answered immediately with a shrug and he watched silently as the tension bled out of his friends. Whatever it was that had just happened, it was forgotten and he was very pleased of it.

So long as they were all getting along again he was happy.

"You know," Loki said after a moment, quiet and syrupy, "He did seem to enjoy himself – from what I could tell, of course."

Barely able to suppress the grin that crept onto his face, Steve excused himself, ignoring the worried look Clint gave him and jogged towards his dorm, waving briefly back at the group.

Maybe all of this _had_ been a huge misunderstanding. Loki was good friends with the engineer, right?

He'd go and talk to Tony after he'd showered.

Perhaps things were starting to look up.

* * *

"For fucks sake!"

"May I suggest looking over your calculations, sir?"

Tony's already scowling face darkened impossibly at the AI's comment and flipping the system off he stomped to his desk, tossing the tablet to join the mess of paper, coffee cups and assortment of candy wrappers. Why was this such an issue? It wasn't like he was asking the bot to do anything independently of him or JARVIS; it was a simple process. Building the damn robot had been a breeze, wiring it had been even easier; now, however, he was being defeated by the goddamn **program**.

Christ, what was wrong with him? He'd built his first circuit board when he was six years old for cry out loud. He'd programmed JARVIS!

This should not be a problem!

"There's nothing wrong with my calculations," Tony hissed, narrowly dodging a wrench the Dum-E robot he'd been working on threw his way.

"I can see that, sir," JAVRIS replied, amusement (if an AI could ever feel amused) clear in his voice.

Tony jabbed irritably at a button on his tablet and watched as the bot shut down, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he mulled over the wiring and program he'd written and uploaded. "Christ, JARVIS, enough with the sass. Just send Pepper an email to get some more aspirin will you? My head feel like there's a damn supernova taking place in it…"

The dark haired genius couldn't have been more grateful when the AI simply affirmed his request and left him in silence to ponder his predicament. Flicking absently through the scrawled calculations and equations he'd scribbled onto the tablet Tony picked up his near cold coffee and took a sip, letting his mind wander, as he often did in the vague hope that some epiphany would strike.

"_Fuck! Nngh…__**Harder**__, please, Steve – "_

How he didn't spit his drink out Tony wasn't sure, but he felt his cheeks burn immediately at the memory of the night before. Dropping his tablet and placing his coffee down he dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, shaking his head, "Hell no. Stop it. **Stop it** Tony, you've been there, done that, move on."

_Large hands tightened their grip on his hips as the blonde dipped his head, pressing their foreheads together._

"_Just like that. Shit, don't stop. Pleasepleaseplease – "_

"JARVIS! I don't care what it is, but play something **loud**," Tony snapped suddenly, ignoring the sigh his AI gave him before music blared through the speakers he'd installed on the walls. It was enough to drown out the heady moans his imagination was throwing at him, but it did very little to stop his skin burning and tingling at the memory of those hands.

That **touch**.

The sex had been amazing; hot, intoxicating, hard, fast..._loving_. Steve had treated him with a sort of reverence that he'd come to never expect from any of his sexual trysts. The blonde haired footballer had made him feel like he was the only one in the world that had mattered. The slow pace had given him the chance to feel every single passing throb of pleasure. It had been an incredible experience.

Tony **hated **him for it.

This was meant to have solved this problem.

As Loki had rightly pointed out, it always had in the past.

But from what he could recall, no one had got under his skin quite as much as Steve fucking Rogers. No woman or man had ever pushed him to the point where he was making mistakes in his work – it was completely unacceptable. So entirely wrong.

And yet absolutely addicting.

The warm heavy body above him. Chiselled, defined muscles that had no right to be so mouth wateringly perfect. The soft, low groans as he ran his fingers down those washboard abs. Honest, downright _earnest_ blue eyes staring at him like he'd never wanted anything so badly in his entire life.

All of it was meant to have gone away the moment he'd screwed the guy.

He'd been notorious for having a short attention span – had lived his life by it. Why the hell was it failing him now?

Tony Stark **never** wanted to go back for seconds.

So what was different this time?

With a frustrated growl Tony slammed a hand down on the counter and turned back to the Dum-E bot, grinding his teeth. Stomping across the room he hooked the robot up to the pulley system he'd installed before stalking to the opposite wall. Jabbing the button irritably the engineer watched as the bot lifted enough for him to put struts under to support its weight and hit stop.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do as far as the wiring was concerned – because he had done it perfectly the first time round thank you very much, but he had to do _something_. Anything physical that could take his mind off of the quarterback for longer than five minutes.

Damn Loki – it was the last time he was taking any of the astrophysicist's advice.

How much time went by before the heavy bass of AC/DC was shut off Tony wasn't certain, all he did know was that he wasn't happy about it. Grumbling under his voice about disobedient AI's who were well on their way to being turned into scrap metal, the brunette pushed himself from under the bot, glaring at the ceiling for a moment, "What the hell JARVIS? What? A guy can't try to burst his eardrums without someone mothering him?"

"You have a guest, sir."

Frowning, Tony slowly turned to look at the door, his heart stuttering uncomfortably as his eyes travelled up impossibly toned legs and chest before meeting slightly awkward blue eyes. He felt the tips of his ears burn at the memory of the intruding blonde's low, hoarse cry of release and without a word he immediately hopped to his feet.

After a few moments of silence Steve finally spoke, "Hey."

Quirking an eyebrow in his direction, and trying desperately to keep his cool, Tony slowly turned to walk to his desk.

_Busy…Goddamn it, look busy, maybe he'll go away…_

"I bought you coffee."

"I don't like to be handed things," he responded without missing a beat, barely glancing up from his tablet. He could feel the mild shock at his behaviour radiating from the man in front of him and Tony made sure not to actually _look_ at the man. He didn't need to give his overactive imagination anymore reason to remind him of what they'd done the night before.

"Oh…I guess I'll just…leave it on the counter, ok?"

"Whatever."

He heard Steve shuffling about somewhere to his left and Tony risked a sideward glance, watching the blonde slowly place the steaming mug of caffeine on the table. But damn did it smell good…The coffee, not Steve. Though even from where he was cowering the engineer could smell the faint aroma of soap and deodorant.

It was quite the combination, now he came to think of it – the bitter scent of the coffee mixed with the sweeter, lighter fragrance of the quarterback now standing uneasily nearby.

And **hell**, he really needed to get Steve out of here before he went into cardiac arrest. Just _where_ was his heart trying to pump all of that blood anyway?

The slight tightening in his slacks quickly answered that question for him.

Unnerved by the length of silence that had passed between them and from the unreadable look Tony had been giving him Steve rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. That one noise seemed to bring the dark haired engineer back to earth as he immediately jerked away from the counter and turned his back on him, tinkering away on the impressive piece of machinery.

"Look…About what happened last night – "

_Shit, got to end this conversation…_

Tony grunted, pushing his hair out of his eyes as his attempted to busy himself with absolutely _nothing_. "What about it?"

"Well we sort of…"

"Fucked?"

Steve blanched, "Yeah…I guess we sort of did…"

With a hollow laugh Tony shook his head and finally turned to look at the blonde, "There's no 'sort of' about it. We fucked, had sex; however you want to put it. All I care about is getting my inventions up and running – sometimes I need a little help quieting my libido. What're you expecting? That just from that one time we'd fall in love and go out? I don't go **steady** Rogers, no matter how good a lay you were."

"I didn't…" Steve paused and stared at the ground for a long moment before sighing heavily. "I don't know what I thought…"

Neither of them looked at each other, not daring to say a word.

Steve looked like someone had just kicked his puppy.

Tony was more concerned that he _cared_.

"Sir," JARVIS intervened smoothly, making Steve jump and giving Tony a good enough reason to turn away from the blonde; if only so he didn't have to face up to the way his heart clenched at the man's dejected expression. "Miss Potts has just informed me she's on her way."

"Ah – thanks JARVIS. Look, Rogers I need – "

_Stop being nice, damn it. Tell him to get lost!_

Steve shook his head with a small smile, one that was completely false and didn't reach his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Nah, don't worry about it…Sorry I interrupted you, Tony, enjoy the coffee."

The dark haired genius watched disheartened as Steve turned on his heel, hands stuffed in his pockets and walked out of the workshop without so much as a goodbye. Of course, he didn't really deserve one after what he said.

Though that didn't explain why he cared that he'd hurt the jock's feelings.

He'd said similar things to other people in the past – hell, with his track record Steve was lucky he hadn't just blown him off from the start.

Then again…They'd all been the same, shallow and mind-numbingly superficial.

None of them had been quite like Steve.

With a groan of annoyance at his own traitorous mind Tony flopped down into a seat, glaring at the offending cup of coffee still steaming in front of him. His head was pounding worse than ever, and this time he wasn't sure it was entirely from the hangover he was still nursing.

Then it hit him, for a genius he really was dumb as fuck.

He couldn't stop thinking about the guy, the way he talked, smelt, _moved_…His heart felt like it was running a marathon and systematically give out of him and he was even more of an ass to the guy than usual. Why Loki had managed to convince him to go for it so easily.

Even as drunk as he had always been a little more…calculating when he decided he needed to get his rocks off.

God damn, for the first time in his entirely life Tony Stark had a _crush_.

And he had just royally fucked it up…

"Play something JARVIS, I don't care what, just something."

And that was how Pepper found Tony lying flat on his back on the floor of his workshop holding a cooling cup of coffee in one hand, a bottle of bourbon in the other and trying to deafen himself with Red.

Sometimes she didn't think Howard Stark paid her enough to put up with this.


	7. Chapter 6

**Authors Note:** I have good news! I know where this fiction is finally going! (I can almost guarantee my tone will change next a/n) I knew where it was going in the short term but not in the long – but now I do, bwahahaha. Right down to how it'll end, but don't worry, this should be a good…fifteen or so chapters long, including the six already up. Do **not** hold me to that, I may do more or less than that number, it's just a vague broadcast for you to enjoy.

I also have no idea how this chapter came together so easily…Get used to this because this is probably how things are going to be, me updating really quickly some times and really, really slowly at others. Consider this a further apology for taking so long over the mistake riddled chapter yesterday. Flu might be a complete pain in my ass, but at least it gives me time off of work to write for you guys!

Hope you enjoy the next instalment of JYWS, I slogged my ill guts out to get it to you, though no Steve this time so Boo. (Because he's so much easier to write than Tony).

This chapter is brought to you by Nickelback and Bon Jovi. :)

**Warnings: **Simply because I got halfway through writing this and realised I might as well throw this out here, some strong language because Tony's drunk as a sailor and sex references because it wouldn't be one of my fics without it and because Loki made me. Enough said.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

An entire week went by before Pepper finally conceded defeat and called Bruce and Loki for help. Tony knew nothing about her supposed 'betrayal' – though in all honesty she highly doubted Tony knew about anything that happened outside of his workshop these days. The redhead was not above admitting that she'd never seen her charge so irate about something; and that was a true shocker at first.

What the 'something', or, as she had begun to suspect, _'someone'_ was Pepper still didn't know. All she could be sure of at this point was that with Tony's track record she probably didn't want to find out anyway.

Now, Pepper Potts was not to be misunderstood; she'd known Tony Stark for over five years, had first started managing him at the tender age of nineteen – at first as a favour to Howard and then as an eventual career path. Not to mention she wasn't idiotic enough to pass up the opportunity to get in good with the next owner of Stark Enterprise, no matter what she had to deal with. She'd seen him become all consumed by a new idea or project, be overwhelmed by the desire to prove himself to his father, she'd even seen him throw himself without reserve into his work to cover up and ignore how disappointed he could be with his family.

But in all her time spent with the young engineering genius Pepper had never seen Tony behave quite like this.

The workshop was an absolute _tip_ – it had never been very organised to begin with (no matter how much Tony insisted that it was an organised sort of chaos) but this was just downright ridiculous. None of his tools were in their usual place, music was almost always blaring out of those damn speakers becoming more profound and (dare she think it) _sappier_ the further down the bottle he got and his professors had reliably informed her that Tony hadn't been to a single class or lecture since sometime last week.

Paper was everywhere, in every corner of the extensive room; scrunched up plans swamped the waste basket against the far wall, while the rest of what must have been the contents of six or seven pads lay scattered like a strange carpet of half drawn designs outlined with equations. A quick glance had told her whatever it was he had planned the thing had thrusters.

And everyone knew that at the best of times giving Tony rocket fuel was not a good idea.

A bizarre concoction of candy wrappers, granola bar wrappers and discarded soda cans and bottles that she would bet her engagement ring on had once had alcohol in them was spread amongst the rejected plans. Throughout all her visits where she'd tried her damnedest to get the boy out of his rut said charge had either been lying on the floor scribbling away furiously, not even sparing a glance up to welcome her, or had been passed out on the mattress he seemed to have dragged here from his room.

She was quite sure that had she not been leaving him food he would have possibly starved to death by now.

It was that fact that scared her most.

Tony had never been wonderful at looking after himself. Self-preservation seemed to be something that whoever was in charge of the Stark-construction manual had forgotten to hardwire into his brain. He also had an awful tendency to try and self-destruct; in the past she'd been able to pull him out of it before things got too out of hand, and when she wasn't there Bruce and his strange partner had been close seconds.

But this time it didn't matter how much she told him to eat or to go and shower, or to sleep in an actual bed instead of a mattress in the corner of the room; Stark wasn't budging. His eyes were near sunk into the back of his head, circled by dark smudges that Pepper knew had everything to do with sleep deprivation and nothing to do with oil stains, his hair obviously hadn't been washed in at least three or four days and was stuck somewhere between dull and listless and mad scientist, sticking out at odd angles.

Not to mention his skin was practically _grey_ and she was pretty sure that he'd been in the same clothes for a few days, what with the stains, dirt and creases.

For the first few days of this new behaviour, Pepper hadn't been worried, after all, for Tony, 'Man-time' in the cave wasn't just a philosophy – it was his way of life. His _**only**_way of life.

But now it was really becoming a problem, especially if he was cutting classes because of it.

But whatever was bothering him, he wasn't letting on. In fact, every time she mentioned it he simply snorted and told her that nothing was wrong, he was just on the cusp of developing something 'major'. This was then closely followed by a long, one-sided conversation about how it would 'change the world' and 'make everyone sit up and look at him for once'.

Deflection, Pepper had mused on more than one occasion, seemed to be a trait that ran very deep in the Stark's. Or at least the men.

Either way, she never thought she'd be happier to see Loki than she was that afternoon; even if he did come alone.

"Where's Bruce?"

Loki looked rather glum for a moment before he sulkily replied, "Looking after the other emotionally impaired twit."

Pepper considered the wiry brunette for a long moment; from what she could remember Tony telling her, Loki and Bruce had been rather good at ignoring their…as Tony had put it _'blatant attraction for each other, why don't they just bang already?"_ It seemed a little laughable that Loki was getting angsty about the engineer's love life after what their friends and brother had put up with when _they_ had danced around their budding relationship for a year.

Then again…neither of them was nearly as bad as Tony, so she supposed she could perhaps understand the man's irritability. She knew _she_ was at the end of her tether on this one.

"So I was right, it is about someone…Wait a second, it's not the same person he was swooning over the other week is it?"

There was a long pause where the astrophysicist seemed unwilling to respond and Pepper just shook her head, "You know what, it doesn't matter. Forget I asked – just do something about it, please. I don't want to have to tell Howard that I stood by and watched his only son and heir work himself into the ground over some…some, lord I don't even know whether he's into guys or girls at the moment. Fix it."

And that was how Loki was left with a hungover genius who was well on his way to being completely wasted again.

* * *

The first thing that went through Loki's mind when he stepped into the workshop was: _yikes_.

And once he took in the sheer size of the task Pepper had left him with the second was an overwhelming moment of panic, because seriously how was he supposed to fix _this_?

Tony was quite obviously a few interstellar clouds short of a galaxy; case closed move on send him to a shrink before he blows something up.

The guy simply didn't come with a manual, though most of them dearly wished he did; what could relax him and placate him one day would piss him off another. He was a ticking time bomb, and the fact the smaller brunette hadn't even look up when he entered proved that things had progressed a little worse than they'd expected.

Seriously, had he not even noticed he'd come in?

Bruce had told him what the engineer had said to Rogers and even he had to admit that Tony had been harsh on the footballer. Too harsh.

_Suspiciously_ harsh.

Which was perhaps why he was standing here watching the short ass wander around the workshop, shirt hanging open over slacks that were riding dangerously low on the genius' hips, days old stubble on his jaw and a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a tablet in the other. Covering his ears Loki narrowed his eyes on the offending speakers and ground his teeth at the heavy bass of whatever crap he was listening to this time.

The guy looked like he needed a good shag. Not a bright idea seeing how that was what had got them all into the trouble they were currently knee deep in.

Steve, although very dejected, seemed to have been dealing with it all rather well – which simply amplified to everyone that he was really rather hurt. When he wasn't in class he was jogging, sketching (a sneaky peek had told the mischievous brunette that Steve spent a lot of time drawing the engineer) or hitting up the gym. The fact that the blonde spent hours in the gym punching the shit out of a punching bag until his knuckles bled (not a good thing for an artist he might add) had nothing to do with that little revelation of course.

No sir, they'd come up with that all on their own. Loki couldn't help why Bruce hung out with the idiots sometimes…even if they were a constant source of entertainment.

Loki had seen his brother and his boyfriend letting off steam in the past, and Bruce is downright _terrifying _when he gets really angry, but Steve…Steve was practically a goddamn _**monster**_ when he got into the zone; Thor had told him Rogers had actually broken the supporting bracket that held the bags to the ceiling. Twice.

_Mental note…Don't piss off the Captain._

"I guess this time you're really leaving! I heard your suitcase say goodbye!"

_Oh you've got to be kidding me…You can't possibly be that smashed that you're singing love songs Tony…_

But it seemed he really was that drunk and he still hadn't realised Loki was watching him in a mixture of nausea and pity. Because Tony either really didn't care what he was currently thinking about him, or he was just too pissed to care about anything but inflicting his atrocious singing on the rest of the world.

Loki sympathized with the world as he suffered through the display.

The dark haired genius had dropped the screen onto a stool and was currently drunkenly strumming out chords against the half empty bottle in his hand, eyes closed and head tossed back. Apparently this wasn't the first love ballad Tony had practically bellowed at the top of his lungs because his voice sounded sore and hoarse, far too hoarse for someone who'd supposedly not left the 'shop for a few days.

And while he knew from first-hand experience that JARVIS was a damn good conversationalist he didn't think that Tony had been having a shouting match with his AI. Which left this rib-crackingly hilarious and mildly pathetic exhibition in front of him.

"And as my broken heart lies bleeding, you say true love is suicide!

You say you've cried a thousand rivers and now you're swimming for the shore,

You left me drowning in my tears and you save me anymore!"

Loki cringed as Tony broke into something that could only be described as a wail and his resolve hardened, as entertaining as it was watching the genius make a complete idiot of himself he wasn't sure his hearing would ever really forgive him if he listened to anymore. So, clasping his hands a little firmer over his ears he strode to the huge stereo the extravagant engineer had insisted on installing and reached down for the cable.

"**Now I'm praying to God you'll give me on more chance, girl!**"

Without a word of warning the trickster pulled the cord on his friend's music, momentarily enjoying the spectacle of Tony continuing to bellow like a wolf to the moon before he realised that his backing had gone. And possibly that his ears were also ringing from overexposure to the deafening dynamics he'd subjected himself to over the last few days.

Loki would have been lying if he said he didn't feel, and probably look, very smug as he swung the plug in a circle by the wire. Of course, Loki had never told anyone he was an honest bastard. Just that he _could_ be a bastard.

"Thank you, Mr Odinson," JARVIS said coolly across the speakers, obviously more than a little fed up with his creator's antics. It never ceased to amaze the mischief maker exactly how much of a personality the AI had, a credit to Tony's programming skills if ever there was one.

"It was my pleasure, JARVIS," was his cheerful reply before he turned his attention back to the unruly engineer glaring at him over the top of his bottle. "My, my. You know I didn't believe Pepper for a moment when she said you'd completely lost it, but I suppose I should know better than to doubt the infamous Miss Potts."

Tony took a swing from his bottle and gestured for Dum-E (and yes he had finished the damn bot no thanks to Rogers moaning in his head like a goddamn rent boy because he was Tony fucking Stark and you'd better not forget it) to fetch another. "Wha' the hell're you doin' here, Loki? Shouldn' you be off fuckin' Banner somewhere?"

Tutting the wiry brunette hopped up onto the counter, "So tetchy! And after I came all this way to help you – "

"Don' need your goddamn help, Loki!"

"Obviously," Loki muttered under his breath, raising an eyebrow in Stark's direction. "And to answer your earlier question I'm not, as you eloquently put it, 'fucking Banner' because he's out with Rogers. Cleaning up **your** mess; you really know how to tell a guy you like that you want to have his babies. Maybe if I'd told Bruce that I only wanted him for a quick screw we would have got together sooner."

Tony couldn't be sure if it was the level of alcohol in his blood or the fact that the trickster really _was_ that sneaky, but the empty bottle he threw in the brunette's direction never hit its target – instead shattering against the wall. A quick glance across the room showed that Loki had relocated himself to the stool he'd placed his data pad down on and was now flicking through the intricate designs, calculations and equations with a bemused expression. "Fuckin'…How'd you…JARVIS," he whined, sticking out his lower lip in a pout.

"I'm afraid you're rather on your own, sir. Even if I wanted to help, and I cannot stress enough that I don't, I'd be less than worthless in a physical confrontation."

"You turned my AI against me! B-Bastard," Tony slurred irritably and snatched the new bottle of alcohol, some kind of whiskey this time (like hell did he care right now), from Dum-E with a grunt of approval. After another sip he seemed to remember what had happened, "How the hell'd you move so fast anyway?"

Loki grinned at him, sending a slight shiver of discomfort down his spin, because _really_ how did Banner deal with the impish brunette? "You have your talents, I have mine…Speaking of which, would you mind telling me **why** you're building a _metal suit_? I never took you for a man with strange kinks in the bedroom, Rogers seems very…_vanilla_."

If Tony could have gone redder the trickster was sure he would have, instead the engineer launched himself across the room to swipe the tablet from the trickster's hand. If he hadn't been drunk Loki might have let him, but it was just too much fun to watch him fall flat on his face and knock his drink out of his hands. It was even more fun to put a foot on his back to hold him in place and watch him squirm.

So sue him, Loki had never promised to be ethical while getting Tony his mojo back. That was Pepper's area of expertise and seeing how that hadn't worked it was time to pull out the big guns. So to speak.

"Loki! Fuckin'…Ge' the fuck offa me!"

With a chuckle the astrophysicist pushed a fraction harder, just to stop him from dislodging his foot of course, "You've got a hellova mouth on you Stark, I'm shocked Rogers let you kiss him. Now, about that suit…Enlighten me."

"It's just a goddamn suit – "

"Don't lie to a liar, Tony, you should know by now it won't work and you're as transparent as a crack addict saying they're clean. You're designing it like a madman, you haven't been to classes – it's got to mean a lot to you for you to be putting in so much hard work."

Tony froze almost immediately and craned his neck at an impossible angle to glare at the taller brunette over his shoulder. "If I tell you will you ge' the hell off?" His only response was a smug smile, and it seemed that it was all he was going to get, so with an irritable sigh he took a deep breath, "S'for the expo, alright? I came up with it a few years ago, dad was going on about peace or some crap like that and I thought…I dunno wha' I thought ok?"

The look he received left him under no illusion that he was meant to continue, and when there was a long moment were it seemed that Tony wasn't going to do as he was told Loki pressed down a little harder.

"Ow! Alright, Christ, Loki, stop fuckin' standing on me!"

"As much as I love the little backstory, Tony, It doesn't really answer my question, why are you skipping classes, meals and _sleep_ for this project?" Loki snapped, slowly raising his foot and turned to sit on the counter.

Tony rolled his shoulders, sighing in relief and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Throwing a heated glare at the trickster he flopped down to sit cross legged and pressed the tips of his fingers into the grooves of his temples. "It…started off as somethin' to impress my dad, you know, so he'd start taking me seriously. But I knew I didn' have any hope in hell'f getting it done or even design it to a point where he'd consider takin' it on. Bu' when I…I don' wanna talk about it…"

For a long moment Loki didn't say a thing, just stared at him like he was trying to unpick his very soul and evaluate him.

It unnerved the hell out of Tony.

Then, just when he thought the astrophysicist wasn't going to speak Loki grinned, "Well, well, Tony this isn't like you at all. Just look at you, trying so hard to impress the quarterback."

"Sh-Shut up Odinson!"

By this point Loki was practically cackling and Tony didn't think he'd ever been more embarrassed in his entire life. But having someone else confirming what he'd feared was…sobering to say the least.

"Easy _Iron Man_," the brunette teased, holding his hands up in mock defeat, "I'm just enjoying the moment. Tony Stark, son of the richest genius this country has ever produced, _likes_ _someone_ and doesn't know what to do? That is just absolutely precious."

"Are you just going to sit there and laugh or are you going to help?" Tony snapped and pushed himself to his feet, easily snatching the data pad from Loki's shaking fingers. His pride was sore and his head was starting to pound, because damn he was usually completely wasted by now and his body seemed to be taking the break to tell him just how much it hated being treated this way.

Loki offered him a shark-like grin, "I thought you didn't need my help."

"I don't," the genius answered quickly as he placed the tablet down and he busied himself by rummaging through his desk draw for the aspirin he knew Pepper had put there for him. "I just…Your thoughts would be…appreciated."

"I'm not going to make you beg, I think I've emasculated you enough for one day and I won't tell Bruce about the state you've got yourself into, Pepper told him you fell off the waggon but didn't say how bad it was," Loki said after a long moment, drumming his fingers on the table with a pensive look on his face. "But if you do this again I will tell him and you know as well as I do that he won't like it; he'll give you a ribbing worse than I could."

The shudder that ran down Tony's spine was promise enough and Loki continued, relaxing somewhat, "As for your little love predicament, you've got a lot of ground to make up. I know you don't think that jocks have feelings, but since I'm related to one and going out with another I have to tell you that's simply not true. As for Steve, what you might not know – nay, what you _won't_ know, because you never find out the backgrounds of your one-nighters is that he's an artist. Not wanting to buy into the stereotype, because it's what got you into trouble in the first place, but they do tend to be the…touchy, feely, express-thy-self types.

"Not to mention you did pop the guys cherry."

That grabbed Tony's wavering attention.

"What? I…We…He…"

"Didn't say anything about it I assume?"

Tony shook his head and stared at his shoes for a moment, making a mental note to get JARVIS to send Pepper and email to get him some new clothes, these were going to need _burning_. Then he mulled over the new development, it made a lot more sense now he thought about it – he'd never had someone come to see him the night after to discuss where it left them. He'd always made it a habit to steer clear of virgins.

They were needy, sometimes downright clingy.

And goddamn it he'd fucked one!

How was he supposed to know that a fine piece of ass like Rogers hadn't had sex before? He was jock, had been part of the football team before he came to college from what Banner had told him – he had no right to be so…innocent.

Still…that he'd never touch anyone before him…Tony wasn't ashamed to admit (to himself at least) that it made his heart race thinking about it.

And then he remembered what exactly he'd said to the blonde.

_Why have I got to be such a rude bastard when I'm hungover?_

"Oh don't be so hard on yourself; you're a rude bastard when you're not too, oh and when you're drunk."

Tony leapt out of his skin and turned on the mischievous brunette smirking at him, and Christ he really hoped he'd said that out loud because if Loki had suddenly become telepathic he was royally screwed.

"I don't suppose you have anything _helpful _to say instead of sitting there mocking me? It's not my fault Banner was stubborn as hell and pretty much fucked you into submission no matter what you did to try and deter him," Tony bit back spitefully, knowing too well the astrophysicist wouldn't take his words to heart. You learnt not to take everything the Stark said to heart after a while, Pepper liked to tell him he only did it to cover up the fact that he was actually a very caring individual.

Complete bullshit of course.

Tony Stark was a **man**.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head, "I'll have you know, Stark, that Bruce was nothing but a gentleman when he decided to…shall we be very old fashioned and say court me? It was the only thing that made me give him a chance in the first place. Since you ruined Steve's attempts of trying to talk to you about what had happened and were an irredeemable prick to him it's your job to woo him."

_Woo_ _Rogers? Well that shouldn't be too hard…_

"JARVIS?"

"Yes sir?"

"Would you tell Pepper to go out and buy a Rolex? Nothing too pricey but not dirt cheap either, I don't want him to think I'm a tight ass, oh and - "

Before the AI could affirm the command the taller brunette levelled him with an unimpressed glare, "Hold on! Please cancel that JARVIS, Tony doesn't have a clue what he's doing and therefore cannot be trusted to be in charge of manning this…relationship."

Getting to his feet Loki put his hands in his pockets and ignored the frosty glare Tony was sending his way. "You really have no idea…How did you manage to get this far in life and not know how to communicate with people? Actually," he paused and lifted his hand, "I don't want to know. All I want you to do, is listen very hard to what I'm about to tell you, because I'm not going to repeat it. You're not going to like it; in fact, in order to try and get back in Rogers' good books you're going to have to try very hard not to be your usual charming self. But trust me when I say that building flashy metal suits and throwing Rolex watches at him is not going to work.

"Consider this as you would a science experiment or whatever will make it easier for you to understand; get the right formula and you get the right result, over or undercook it and you're going to end up with a huge mess, maybe even an explosion. Follow these simple rules and even you can't fuck it up, just you wait and see."

_Damn it I need another aspirin…_

* * *

**Authors Note:** Big thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, and also to Theboywholivedisdead your review about Tony treating their relationship like a math calculation made me giggle and I couldn't help but use it. :)

Enjoy kittens! xx


	8. Chapter 7

**Authors Note:** I honestly have nothing of interest to say. Not that anything I usually put up here is ever very interesting.

I'm just focusing on getting these chapters out as quickly as possible, because after planning the whole thing out the other morning I realised I had a heck load of work to do. :)

It has never been so sweet to be under pressure!

On a completely unrelated note I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Tony's starting to get easier to write, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did making it. x

**Fun fact:** I honestly did do the search that you'll see later on in this chapter, and I did pretty much react this way when I was reading through the 'advice'. These are mostly an accumulation of what I read. Hope you find it as entertaining as I did. :D

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"I mean, who died and made him relationship god?"

Tony looked up from the essay he'd been dutifully writing for the last hour or so; he wasn't even really paying much attention to what he was typing, but honestly, he'd already done one degree and passed with honours. By now he could write a damn dissertation with his eyes closed within two to four hours, possibly drunk, so doing a first year paper was a proverbial walk in the park.

And he didn't care if he was being immature, because Christ he _hated_ it when other people thought they were better at something than him. Tony was a whole two years Loki's junior and he'd slept with more people than the astrophysicist.

_That's the problem though, Tony; you screw people and that's it. You just couldn't content yourself with a onetime thing this time._

And damn why did that voice sound so much like his dad?

Bastard; he could only imagine what Howard would say to him if he knew about the mess he'd gotten himself into.

Or he could not…that worked better for him anyway.

"What was wrong with a Rolex anyway? If **I** gave me a goddamn _Rolex _I'd be freaking over the moon, why isn't it any good for Rogers?" he continued to grumble, finishing the equation he was infinitely grateful to able to concentrate on.

Apparently now his brain was confident he was going to do something about his detrimental crush on the quarterback it had stopped turning against him and let him get on with some work. Of course, every now and then he'd remember a touch or a sound, but mostly it was blissfully quiet. Besides, where the hell did his brain get off turning against him anyway, _he_ was the one in charge thank you very much.

JARVIS gave an irritable sigh and Tony braced himself for a lecture. "Mr Odinson explained that to you, sir. Mr Rogers would not appreciate the sentiment after you told him in no uncertain terms that you – "

"Alright, alright! Point taken," the engineer snapped and waved his hand, glaring at his work as he drummed his fingers against his thigh.

Loki had said be traditional. It had seemed like a simple enough guideline and it probably would have been had the mischief maker given anyone else that advice.

As far as Tony was concerned, though, it was too vague, that meant anything from standing under Steve's window at night serenading him (and who knows maybe if he gets _really_ drunk again he might just do it) to sending the guy a big box of chocolate or a basket of kittens.

Either way, traditional was gimmicky and sentimental, all the things he prided himself on not being. Which was why he was having so much trouble with the concept.

After spending so much time in your own company, selfishly thinking about yourself it was a hard transition to start thinking about what other people wanted. And ok, so maybe not other people, just Steve, because quite frankly as far as he was concerned the rest of the world could stick it.

…Other than Pepper, Bruce and Loki, he supposed.

_Damn, when did I get friends?_

Foregoing his essay for the time being (he had all week to finish and who the hell needed a _week_ to do an essay?) Tony hit the small internet icon, running a hand through his hair as he flicked through his browsing history to the Google search bar. Lord knew he was going to need a lot more help than the astrophysicist had given him.

"Sir, may I suggest asking Miss Potts for some advice?"

Tony looked up wild-eyed and shook his head furiously, panic etched into every curve and sharp point of his face. "Oh hell no! Don't you dare, JARVIS, I'll never hear the end of it if Pepper finds out," he barked immediately, hopping to his feet to pace agitatedly back and forth, his search forgotten for the time being.

Sure, Pepper would be the ideal person to ask; she was getting married after all, she must have done this or had this done to her.

But the mocking that would follow…

No. Pepper was not an option.

Maybe if he got really desperate and lost all self-respect for himself…No, even then it was a no. He'd rather die alone and unloved.

Slight exaggeration.

Ok, _huge_ exaggeration but it was damn well justified.

Once he'd got the AI's solemn promise that he wouldn't drag Pepper into this the dark haired engineer finally settled back into his chair, scowling down at the data pad in his hands. So this was the best that Google could do for him? And why did he suddenly feel like a fifteen year old girl who was dealing with his first crush?

His hugely embarrassing search of: _'How to tell someone you like them', w_as greeted by a huge number of dating sites, blogs, a video (what the hell?) and, to his horror, two Wikihow articles – because goddamn what idiot needed to be told how to talk to people by Wikipedia?

Ah. That would be him…Drat.

_Best start at the top and work my way down._

Clicking what he assumed was a dating site link, Tony cringed as a window popped up asking him to join the site and meet singles in his area. Hell no, he already had a single he wanted in his area who he couldn't begin to understand and he didn't want to change that anytime soon. This was for the long hall after all the trouble he was going through to make it work.

' _1. Touch your face and hair when you're talking to them_

_2. Touch them, casually, on the arm or knee when you're talking to them'_

Well…He'd already done those, it was hard not to since they'd already fucked. Was there a 'I fucked up and need to fix it' list?

' _3. Laugh at their jokes_

_4. Touch their arm or knee when you laugh at their jokes'_

Was Steve even funny? What the hell was this site? He knew this shit already!

' _5. Notice when their glass is empty and always offer to fill it up or get them another'_

Wasn't that called trying to get someone drunk? He was pretty sure he'd done that before.

' _6. Make eye contact from across the room at parties; smile'_

Or you could just walk straight up to them and proposition them…This was pointless, frowning the brunette skimmed down a few lines.

' _10. If they have an ex, or a date gone bad, tell them that they're too good for than person, anyway'_

He really couldn't do that; Steve's last 'date gone bad' was probably him and he couldn't very well tell the guy that he was too good for him. Didn't that defeat the object of his emasculating exercise? He was trying to convince the blonde to go…**steady** with him, not make him think he was a bigger ass than he already did.

' _12._ _Email them because you just saw something and it 'made me think of you' '_

Porn?

' _13. Treat them to something sometime'_

A Rolex!

' _17. Loan them a book that you 'just thought they would like' '_

Tony didn't have anything he thought the blonde would understand…He could go and buy something, he supposed, but did he really wanted people to think he read stuff like that? Shaking his head the engineer moved on.

' _23. Show up to their art opening/soccer game/open mic night/thing'_

Ah, now they were in business. That was something he could do; he could most definitely go to see Steve's art…and he hypothetically could also go to a football game. It wouldn't kill him would it?

And then he thought about the level of noise, the focus on a bunch of guys he predominantly hated, people would be staring at him and damn it would frustrating to listen to his peers jabbering on about some bullshit that didn't make any sense. But if Steve saw him there…

He could already imagine the bright smile he might be given and it was enough to make up the genius' mind.

For the love of god the things he was prepared to do for this guy - if this wasn't a crush he didn't know what was.

Scanning the page his eyes flickered to the sidebar and Tony couldn't help but grin. '25 sweet things you can do for your girlfriend' huh? That could be helpful. He would just have to make sure he never mentioned it to anyone, and perhaps wipe his browsing history; honestly the last thing he wanted was Steve thinking he thought he was a girl. Clicking on the link he hoped this would be a little more helpful than the last article he'd read, because for god's sake what idiot didn't do all of that naturally?

Oh yes, that would be him again.

' _1. Do that thing for her she's been putting off forever (she obviously doesn't want to do it)'_

Well that was another void and pointless guideline, and let's be honest if Steve didn't want to do it then why the hell would he? Unless it was building something that he could upgrade and make absolutely amazing…Maybe then Steve would be so grateful he would immediately want thank you sex.

Mentally filing that plan away for a later date, Tony moved on.

' _2. Have dinner ready if she gets home late: silverware, wine in her favourite cup, napkins, the whole shebang'_

Again, that was doable, perhaps not as something to get the ball rolling, but still a decent enough idea.

' _3. Charge her phone when she leaves it unattended_

_4. Put new music on her iPod'_

Did Steve have an iPod? If he didn't (and even if he did) Tony resolved to buy one for him anyway. And he couldn't get into trouble for it because it wasn't a Rolex and everyone knew Rolex's were far more expensive than the new iPod.

"JARVIS, get Pepper to buy the newest iPod on her way in, would you?"

"Sir I don't think – "

Tony waved his hand dismissively with a snort, "Shhhh, daddy's reading."

' _7. Pick up her laundry when she's too busy'_

He could get Pepper to do it.

' _10. Tell her she looks sexy. Not cute, sexy'_

Would get him brownie points **and** make the big blonde blush, two bird's one stone.

' _11. Fix something you know she is not going to fix herself (bike, computer, headphones, whatever)_

"Also order a punching bag would you, heavy duty – doesn't matter how much it costs."

Blah, blah, blah, some crap about being nice to her – his – friends, and…_Yikes_…

' _16. Let her keep her stuffed animals on the bed even if they sort of freak you out and they're always getting in the way.'_

He really, **really** hoped Steve didn't have any stuffed bears hidden away somewhere that he hadn't noticed the other night. Because if he did that was just **creepy**.

And as far as he was concerned the rest of it was nonsense that didn't really matter anyway; all that held any significance was that Tony had a plan, a good plan. Even if he hated planning things out usually, he felt he was going to need one no matter what when dealing with Steve – especially since he'd royally shot himself in the foot.

They could have been having amazing sex by now if he hadn't been such an insufferable ass. Loki's words not his.

Feeling much more enthusiastic about things he shut down the window and returned to his essay, confident in the knowledge that he'd be able to start later that evening. He'd send Loki a message double checking that the team were on late training today so there was no chance Steve would be in his room.

* * *

By the time Pepper finally dragged herself through the door of his workshop Tony had finished his essay and was going over the plans he'd drawn up for the Iron Man suit. He'd rather liked the name Loki had teasingly given him and he saw no reason not to use it; of course, he did owe the man for helping straighten out his head the day before. Naming one of his inventions seemed like just payment.

And maybe he'd buy the trickster and Bruce a nice holiday somewhere – the footballer was always saying how much he'd like to go to India…Food for thought.

"Would you mind telling me why I've had to run around town picking up iPods and drag a damn _punching bag_ here?" Pepper panted heavily and leant against the doorframe, pushing the heavy sand filled bag into the room with her foot.

Tony would have felt bad that she looked like she'd really struggled, her usually perfect red hair sticking out at odd angles and a hole in her black nylons, he really would have; but he was barely swallowing down his excitement. He'd buy her a new set of stockings for her troubles later – now he needed to check that the bracket he'd designed would be able to keep the thing steady without breaking.

Loki was right; Steve must be a beast if he could snap usual anchors.

Guess he was just lucky that guy was like a puppy dog.

"Tony!"

"Hmm?" The brunette looked up from what he was doing, mildly confused by the tone in his assistant's voice, "Oh, right, sorry Pep. They're just…Have you got the iPod? I need to stick some music on there and upgrade my old dock."

The red head didn't move, instead she stood rooted to the spot looking at the young genius like he'd grown a second head. After all of the hassle over the last week that was the only explanation she was going to get? That didn't sit too well, and scowling Pepper pulled herself up to her full height and folded her arms over her chest, "I do, but you're not getting it until I have some answers. Tell me what you've done to your other one and what your meltdown was over."

She was pleased to see Tony shuffle awkwardly under her gaze, before he gave her big smile, "I haven't done anything to my iPod, see it's right over there, safe and sound, don't be so suspicious."

Tony continued to smile as he gestured to his sound system and walked towards his assistant, raising his hands with the hope of placating the woman in front of him. "But if you don't mind…I really do need that iPod, I'm on a bit of a time schedule and if I miss the – "

"Anthony Stark give me one good reason not to ground your ass right now," she snapped, knocking his hands away from her with a deep, frosty scowl.

"Well, you're not technically my guardian, Pep – ah, but I have no doubt you'd do your damnedest to lock me up. No! Don't hit me, I bruise easily remember!"

Yelping Tony ducked under the red head's arm and dodged to the other side of the room, watching her shut the door quietly behind her and stalk into the room. "JARVIS!"

"Again, sir, you're on your own. I believe Miss Potts is more than justified in her actions," the AI answered easily and the engineer pouted.

"What the hell is your problem, that's twice you've blown me off to side with other people – you're my creation, you're meant to back me up!" he whined but didn't try to escape again as Pepper stopped in front of him, arms folded again. "I'm all fine now, Pep, you worry too mu – "

Her raised hand cut him off without argument and the red head levelled her glare on him, shaking her head, "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? You weren't sleeping or eating, you were drinking yourself into a goddamn _coma_, Tony; this can't keep happening. Find another way of dealing with things that go wrong in your life because hitting the self-destruct button is just so…so **immature**. If all of this, the drinking, the work, the iPod and that punching bag is over some dumb bint, Anthony I swear to god I'll – "

"I…I really like him, Pep."

The quiet admission had Pepper stopping in her tracks and she stared at her charge for a long moment before her expression softened slightly. "I was starting to think I'd never see the day when I heard you say that; how long?"

Tony awkwardly shrugged and mumbled, "Just over a week…"

"And you think plying them with gifts is going to help?"

Pepper watched the brunette wince, looking more dejected than she'd seen him in months, and sighing she wrapped and arm around the boy, sitting him down. "What did you do?" she asked after a moment asking JARVIS quietly to get him a glass of water, because she was almost certain he hadn't been drinking properly.

Sending an incredulous look up at his friend Tony pouted, "Why do you immediately jump to the conclusion that I was the one who fucked up?" The looked he received had him snorting bitterly and with a long suffering sigh he continued, "We…We sort of slept together – " _Oh dear God I'm turning into Rogers…_ "And when he came to talk to me about it the next day I blew him off…pretty nastily too. It wasn't until after he left that I realised that…that I…"

"That you liked him," Pepper finished for him and handed him the glass of water Dum-E had fetched him. "I gather from the gym equipment that he must be an athlete?"

Tony's shaky nod was all the answer she need, and watching him drain the glass she reached into her pocket holding out the iPod for him. "Just tell me that you're not trying anything stupid with this guy?"

"I'll let you know what happens," he promised and offered her a cheeky grin. "But I might need a hand getting that bag up to his room."

Groaning the red head rolled her eyes, "Of course you do."

* * *

"My friend, you may want to slow down before you break something again," Thor said gently from behind his book, half watching Steve lay into the punching bag. It was his turn on Steve-watch and though he really didn't think the man needed it the larger blonde had accepted the task without much argument.

Steve grunted in response and curbed his punches marginally.

He had been at it for over two hours now with no real sign of slowing down, and Thor had managed to get through most of his book within that time period. If he was being painfully honest with himself only half of his frustration stemmed from Tony, the rest of it came from himself and from his friends.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew they were worried about him, and while he had been happy at first to have the support this was just getting ridiculous.

He hadn't done anything wrong and he was being followed around like he'd skipped bail.

The whole thing with Tony was water under the bridge, or at least that's what he wanted it to be. He'd been lucky enough to have a Skype call with Bucky the night before and he'd been painfully sympathetic. He knew why, of course, Bucky had always told him that his first time should be with someone special.

It had been, but the special person hadn't wanted anything more so he hadn't pushed it. Everyone was allowed to make a choice, and he and Tony had made theirs.

Steve threw one last hard punch at the bag and slowly lowered his arms, rolling his shoulders to ease the strain that he knew from experience built up there. The blonde could see Thor watching him over the top of his book, and he was grateful that unlike Clint he didn't make a show of looking down quickly.

Unwrapping the strapping from his hands Steve stretched out his stiff fingers with a wince and tossed it into his kit bag, wiping the back of his neck with a towel. He scrutinized his friend for a long moment before he finally said, "I'm not going to fall apart, Thor; really you can go and spend time with the others or Jane. I won't be upset."

"Do not worry yourself, Steve," the blonde answered cheerily and got to his feet, snapping his book shut with a decisive 'thump', "I find your company very pleasant."

Raising an incredulous eyebrow Steve took a swig from his bottle of water and shook his head. Sure, what wasn't to like; he'd only been working out for the last two hours without saying a word to the man. If this was pleasant he really didn't want to find out what Thor thought was bad manners.

Without a word he bent down and pulled his battered leather jacket over his shoulders, because he knew how damn cold it could feel outside when you were still cooling off, and swung his bag up onto his shoulder. "Well, I'm gonna head back to my room; see if I can get some work done before the weekend starts and Fury makes us train even harder."

Thor gave him a knowing smile and simply nodded, clapping him on the shoulder as they left the gym together, "Don't forget to eat, Steve; I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, see you later, say hi to everyone for me," he added and raised his hand in farewell as he crossed the greenery to the dorms, hands in his pockets, hair damp and his collar up against the slightly bitter wind.

If there was one season Steve really loved, it was autumn. The tree's turned a huge array of colours that made painting and sketching a truly exhilarating and refreshing experience; people seemed to show their real selves in the change of season, whether they moved on quickly or clung to the summer passed.

Running a hand through his hair he climbed the stairs of the halls in silence, smiling back at people who greeted him on their way out or back to their own rooms. The blonde was pretty sure he had leftover lasagne in his fridge, and he made a quick detour to the kitchen to warm up his food.

Time moved at a comfortably languid pace, like it always did when he was sore and blissed out from a good workout and after ten minutes or so Steve plates his food up and strode down the hall to his room. Somehow balancing his kit bag, a plate and his keys he finally unlocked the door and stepped inside only to come face to face with…

A punching bag.

For a moment the footballer thought he must have walked into the wrong room, which was impossible because they all had individual locks and keys.

Which begged the question: How the hell did a punching bag and…a massive iPod dock and iPod get into his room?

Dropping his bag to the floor and putting his cooling dinner on his desk Steve kicked his door shut with his heel, skirting around the bag in the corner of his room. It was about this time that he noticed the note pinned to the heavy duty fabric of the punching bag, and, hesitantly, he tore it off to read it.

"Steve,

Little bird told me you've been destroying the gym equipment – not surprised, their stuff is so cheap. The bag and bracket are reinforced, so even you can't wreck it. Try not to bruise your knuckles; have fun big boy. T.S"

Steve blinked at the note in his hand for a moment before frowning.

_What the hell…?_

* * *

__**Authors Note 2: **So much for my rest huh? But you should be happy to know that that should be the last of the angst for a while. :)

Though that is a little daunting for me, because my personal forte is angst, doing fluffy, cute and mildly comical writing isn't usually my thing, so do bear with me while I figure it ok? Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed kittens! xx


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